


Young Turks

by notallbees



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Punk, Anal Fingering, Artist Steve, Bottom Bucky, Bottom Steve, F/M, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Musician Bucky, Musician Peggy, Musician Steve, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, PUNK BUCKY, Rimming, Sick Steve, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Bucky, Top Steve, Topping from the Bottom, Vegan Bucky, and the top, hipster Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2203350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky inherits his aunt's house in Brooklyn, he immediately finds himself drawn to his cute neighbors over the road. Thing is, Bucky's still recovering from a bad accident and a worse breakup, and he's not looking for a relationship, even if it's a challenge when Steve is adorable, musical and <em>obviously</em> into him. Bucky's determined to just be friends, but with the encouragement of his old band members, and Peggy's persuasiveness, it's really a matter of time before he gives in to temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ****Some minor content warnings in the endnotes****
> 
>  
> 
> This fic does not require much warning for; it’s mostly a slushy, porn-filled slice of life nonsense with tattoos and vegan brownies. BUT, in case it’s a problem for you, it does include some kissing and grabass of mildly dubious consent for both Steve and Bucky (practised on them, not by them). It’s not a big part of the story at all, but you should know it’s there :) The story is pretty much entirely Steve/Bucky BUT Peggy also features heavily in their relationship, they’re all kind of poly, and if that is a problem for you, this might not be your thing. The epilogue is the only part that's explicitly Bucky/Steve/Peggy, so if you don't want to read it, just avoid that part :). 
> 
> But really, this fic is like 60% Steve and Bucky screwing.
> 
> I need to apologise to Falsworth and Howard Stark for kind of making them into jerks. GUYS I DIDN’T MEAN IT I LOVE YOU REALLY <3
> 
> Also Bucky is a terrible vegan. I make no apology for this, because I’ve known some useless vegans. Bucky’s the one who should be apologising tbh. 
> 
> In the meantime please excuse my typos, Britishisms and general ignorance about anything that is incorrect here! I wish I had the time to do a lot of research, I really do, but I don't, so I apologise for errors in advance uwu

### Chapter 1

Bucky just moved to a new neighbourhood. Well, technically it's an old one, because he just inherited his Aunt's house where he used to spend summers as a kid, but the people are new, and that means sooner or later he'll be answering questions about his arm.

He has half a dozen go-to stories for how he lost his left hand. They all paint him in some ridiculous or heroic light, because he learned early on that deflection is easier than seeing the pity in people's eyes. He's not above playing the sympathy card if it'll get people to shut up, because no matter how much they pester him for the truth, that one's just for him.

The only people who know are the ones who were around when it happened, which pretty much includes his sister and the Howling Commandos, who sat with him in shifts his first week in the hospital. 

Bucky sits on the stoop of his dilapidated brownstone and drinks tea in the summer twilight. A flock of birds twist and scatter in the sky above him. He's mostly sitting out there to avoid unpacking, but a little part of him is stalling because he spotted a hot guy across the street when the Commandos were moving him in yesterday, and he wants to find out if the guy lives nearby or if it was just a fluke. Two paths crossing for an instant before diverging again.

Bucky sighs and finishes his cold tea in one gulp. If he's thinking like that, it's probably time to head inside and unpack some food, or at the very least some sheets to put on his mattress. After that he should probably think about buying a bed. 

 

 

A couple of days later, Bucky's half-unpacked and he still hasn't spotted the hot guy again. His unpacking is more like taking everything out of the boxes and piling it up where it's visible, so most of his stuff is still in the wrong place: books in the kitchen and frying pans in the bedroom, but at least there are less boxes. He really wishes he'd labelled them better. 

He's written off his neighborhood crush as a pipe dream, when he stops by the health food store on his way home from work and sees him, ten feet away, browsing the quinoa. He's with a woman, a _really_ pretty young woman, and Bucky feels a small, searing spike of disappointment. They look a little like twins except that one is cornfield blond and the other is brunette, but they're dressed in similar outfits; hot guy in big, thick-rimmed glasses, a floral shirt with a waistcoat over the top (seriously), and denim cutoffs. They show off his cute ass but they're not flattering otherwise, showing off how skinny and pale his legs are. It doesn't discourage Bucky from wanting to wrap those legs around his shoulders and go to town on the guy's dick. He's a man of simple wants. 

The woman also has big chunky glasses, a crop top made from a guy's shirt and pants that look way too tight for the hot weather they've been having. Bucky kind of wants to bang both of them. 

He goes a little closer, because apparently he has no willpower. For all he knows, they're not even be dating. Hot guy definitely looks like he could be into dudes, but Bucky's gaydar is not what it used to be. Nowadays he's normally too busy trying to make sure the guy he's checking out looks over eighteen, which in this case might actually be a problem. He picks up two cans of chickpeas and realizes he's in earshot of the couple, and he doesn't really mean to listen, but he can't help himself.

"I don't know, I'm sure he's a nice guy," the woman is saying absently while she examines two different boxes of quinoa.

Hot guy snorts and shifts the basket from one arm to the other. "Sure, when's the last time you met a punk you could have a conversation with?"

Bucky quickly puts the cans in his basket and busies himself with examining some fruit. He tries to ignore the way his heart beats a little faster, because there's no way in _hell_ they could mean him, but it's still going to be awkward if they turn around and spot him there: dyed hair, tattoos and piercings, ripped jeans and a punk band t-shirt, just _daring_ them to say something. 

"Methinks the lady doth protest," the woman says in an airy voice.

"Punk is really not my type." Yeah, okay, that one hurts. Bucky grits his teeth and turns away. "Still, I think I'll go over and say hi. Welcome him to the neighborhood, you know?"

"Steve Rogers, you have the subtlety of a freight train."

Hot guy – Steve – laughs and slides his arm around the woman's waist and kisses her on the cheek. "I love you," he says, just loud enough for Bucky to hear, which is the point at which he dumps his basket and just makes a beeline for the exit. Bucky has the worst luck. 

 

 

It should not come as a shock that the Howling Commandos have decided to throw him a surprise housewarming party in his own fucking house, without his knowledge, but if  
anyone could think that was a good idea – and then actually pull it off – it could only be them. 

There are at least fifty people here, making Bucky kind of glad he still hasn't finished unpacking, and more grateful than he ever knew he could be to Dernier and Jones for coming over early to stash all his breakables out of the way. 

The ancient trestle table they brought along is groaning under the weight of what seems to be the entire contents of a liquor store, _thank you fellas_ for that one, and it's just as well he didn't bother clearing out the yard yet, because his guests are trampling the weeds all to shit for him. Also, because it's his friends, and because they can't resist, there's an impromptu punk gig happening out there, and someone is manning a veggie barbecue. 

Bucky has just come inside for a break from the crowd. He loves his friends, really, more than anything, but he only had five hours sleep before they dragged him out of bed, ostensibly to see a movie but actually to get him out of the way while they turned his house into a party zone. He doesn't mind though; he accepts that it's his own fault for giving Dugan a key. That's something he needs to rectify asap, and just pray that none of them have made copies yet.

"Hey, you want a drink?"

Bucky glances over and is stunned to see the hot hipster guy – Steve, he remembers – poring over the drinks table. "I'm okay, thanks," he says with an apologetic smile. "I don't really–"

"Your party, right?" 

"Kinda," Bucky says ruefully, willing himself to think of something witty to say. Even something vaguely interesting would do. "I didn't know surprise housewarmings were a thing until tonight."

Steve laughs, and walks over to offer his hand. "I'm Steve, I live right opposite you."

"James," says Bucky, shaking his hand firmly. "I mean, call me Bucky though." 

"Okay, Bucky," Steve says, still grinning at him. He's got nice hands, small but long-fingered, and he holds on a little longer than necessary, his eyes locked on Bucky's face. _I see you got over your dislike of punks_ , Bucky thinks, but he has enough sense to keep it to himself. Steve is looking at him with an open, hungry expression beneath his friendly smile, and Bucky is stunned by the surge of lust that rips through him. It's been a while.

It takes a lot of willpower not to invite Steve upstairs right then and there. The only thing that holds him back is the knowledge that he's gonna be living opposite this guy for the foreseeable future. It might be great, but Bucky doesn't want to deal with it if things go sour. He really doesn't need that kind of hassle. 

"Shame about the music, huh?" Steve says, winking.

Bucky stiffens. So, they're back to punk-bashing. He takes a shallow breath, forces himself not to be a jerk to his guests. "Everyone's got their opinion."

Steve seems to realize straight away that he's fucked up, and his eyes widen. "I mean – shit, I didn't-" He hesitates and fumbles in his pocket, coming up with an asthma inhaler. He takes a quick pull on it and tucks it away with a rueful smile at Bucky. "Sorry. You know, I can't even hear it that well anyway." He gestures to his left ear. "Practically deaf in this one."

"Yeah, well," Bucky says, shifting uncomfortably. He salutes with his left arm, and Steve seems to notice for the first time that part of it is missing. "I hear ya."

"Wow, sorry, man." He glances at it briefly, but then his gaze comes back to Bucky's face. Most people stare for longer than that, even if they try not to. Bucky's impressed.

"Well, it's been almost two years, you know?" he says with a shrug. "I'm used to it." 

"Yeah, two years for me too." He smiles awkwardly. "I just – find it hard to hear when there's a lot of noise like that."

"Oh, right. Sorry, yeah, that makes sense."

There's an awkward silence, and Bucky is just trying to think of something to say when there's a surge of movement from the garden and Steve's friend (girlfriend?) wanders in with a few other people Bucky's never seen before. 

"Hey, Peggy!" Steve shouts, waving her over. "Come and meet Bucky!"

She breaks away from the group, who go off to crowd around the table of drinks, and accepts the arm he slings around her shoulders. "Hello, Bucky," she says with a polite smile and an appraising look that makes Bucky feel like she can see right through him. 

"Hey," he says, shaking her hand. "British?" Peggy nods. "Been here long?"

"About five years," she says, and tips her head onto Steve's shoulder. "Came for the boy, stayed for the bagels."

Steve laughs and jabs his fingers into her ribs. "You fucker."

She shrieks, for the first time losing her cool exterior, and returns the attack with a not-so-gentle looking punch. 

"So, you two are –" Bucky leaves that hanging, but his meaning is pretty clear.

"Oh no," Peggy says, pushing Steve off her. "We're mostly into our own genders."

"I mean, not a hundred percent," Steve says, tossing her a grin offhand. 

Peggy shrugs. "Maybe sixty, seventy per cent." Steve's grin widens, and he turns shining eyes on Bucky.

Bucky is fairly convinced they're a) fucking, and b) head over heels for each other.

"Do you know the band?" Peggy asks, turning back to Bucky. "What are they called? I missed the name."

He nods. "The Howling Commandos, yeah. We all went to college together."

"They're very-" She pauses, searching for the right word a little more diplomatically than Steve had. "Energetic."

"They certainly are that," he says, glancing at Steve, who looks sheepish. 

"Do you write music?" Peggy asks eagerly.

It surprises him, and he can't help but wonder if she knows all about his involvement with the Commandos, but he puts it down to a lucky guess and forces a smirk. "I used to. A little. How did you know?"

Peggy smiles at him, and it occurs to Bucky that she's sort of frightening. He thinks she might have some kind of psychic powers. "Just a feeling."

Bucky just laughs, trying to deflect the attention away from himself. "Hey, are you guys hungry? I can't say much for Morita's character, but he's an awesome cook."

"Yeah but it's all vegan, right?" Steve says, pulling a face. "I'm opposed to vegans on principle."

Peggy slaps him on the arm with a roll of her eyes. Honestly, Bucky isn't even going to bother explaining that they've arranged the catering because _he's_ vegan, not to mention most of his friends, but Peggy has obviously already caught on, because she quickly starts dragging Steve away, calling over her shoulder that they'll catch up with him later and thanks for inviting them. Bucky just forces himself to take a deep breath. 

Okay, so, definitely not gonna bang the hot neighbors. 

 

 

Two days later, Bucky's dreaming, although he doesn't know it yet. He's on a bed, not his own, and there's a guy blowing him, pinning Bucky down with the weight of his body, his own dick rubbing on Bucky's chest. All good so far. It's the first action he's got in _months_ and it feels incredible, but then he notices that they're rocking the bed so hard, it's banging against the wall and making a loud, uneven knocking sound. He starts to worry about the neighbors, and he tries to ask the guy to stop, but he can't seem to make any words. 

The pressure on his dick increases, and Bucky just _knows_ he's about to come, when he suddenly jerks upright and his eyes flash open. He realizes with a jolt of disappointment that it's a dream, and the banging sound is somebody knocking on his front door. 

Groaning, Bucky glances at his alarm clock and swears loudly. He's only been asleep for two hours which, after _that_ shift, is extremely not okay. For a minute he considers ignoring it, but he can't remember when he's scheduled plumbers and electricians and phone installation and overall it is just gonna be easier to get up now.  
Bucky crawls out of bed and trudges down the stairs, trying to think of unattractive things like hangovers and stab wounds because the last thing he wants is to open the door to a stranger with one arm _and_ a boner. 

"I'm coming!" he yells as he hits the bottom of the stairs and there's another furious bout of knocking. He yanks the door open, and is equally confused and pissed off to find not one single plumber, electrician or phone engineer, but his tiny idiot neighbou Steve. Steve grins at him, but then he hesitates and his eyes drop. Bucky suddenly wishes he'd put on some pants, because his jockeys are pretty tight, and even if this guy is kind of a pain in the ass, he's _still_ cute as hell.

"Uh."

"Help you with something?" Bucky snaps.

Steve looks up quickly, though his gaze catches on the stump of Bucky's left arm. He wets his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and Bucky forces himself to think about cold showers and ice floes, but that just leads to ice cream and popsicles and Steve's mouth-

"I just – I wanted to apologize, for the other night," he says, haltingly. "I have a special ability for putting my foot in my mouth, and I thought-"

"It's all good," Bucky says curtly. "Seeya around."

"Wait-"

"Do you _know_ what time it is?"

Steve frowns, and glances at his wrist, then seems to realize he isn't wearing a watch. "Just after nine, I think? Sorry, I saw you come in at seven, I thought you'd be up." When he says this, his gaze drops unmistakeably to Bucky's crotch again. Shit, it's no good, Bucky can't stop thinking about popsicles. 

"I work nights," he says, clearing his throat. "So I sleep in the day."

"Like a vampire," Steve says, with a weak smile. He seems to realize a second to late that Bucky isn't gonna find it funny. "Shit, I'm really sorry."

"Forget it. Later, yeah?"

With that, Bucky slams the door in Steve's face and stalks back upstairs to jerk off, trying to cling into the faded images of his dream and, hey, if he mixes Steve's face in there a little bit, it seems only fair. 

 

 

By the time Bucky wakes up again a few hours later, he's practically forgotten about insulting his new neighbor in his underwear. He wakes up in a sticky mess, vaguely remembers jerking off and, presumably, passing out right after, and decides to jump in the bath before heading out to find some food. He hasn't had much chance yet to explore the neighborhood, being stuck at work and on volunteer shifts so much, but the health food shop should still be open, so he drags on some clothes and heads down there. 

On the way, he spots a small bookstore he hadn't noticed before, and goes in for a poke around. He gave away most of his books when he left college, and he doesn't have a TV or Internet hooked up yet, so it would be nice to have something to actually _do_ apart from play Age of Empires campaigns over and over. He browses for ten minutes and picks up a couple to keep him going. At the checkout he runs into Peggy, who greets him with a calm smile and a butter-wouldn't-melt voice, "Hello, Bucky." She's wearing a pretty sundress and kitten heels, which show off her shapely legs and emphasize her hourglass figure. Steve is one lucky dude. 

"Hey," he says, smiling warily as she walks over to him. He feels like he's in trouble, and he's not sure why. "How-"

"Steve's sulking." She puts her hand on her hip and runs her eyes over him, slowly. 

"Oh. I'm sorry?"

"Good. He feels really bad about waking you up this morning and he won't stop going on about it. Would you mind talking to him? I think I might throttle him if he doesn't stop soon."

"Oh, God, yeah," Bucky says, glancing down at his hand. "I didn't mean to be an asshole." He grins, and gestures to his face. "I need a lot of beauty sleep."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're gorgeous and I'm sure you know it."

Bucky grins. He's starting to really like Peggy. "You wanna grab a coffee? I haven't eaten yet."

Peggy eyes him suspiciously. "I'm not interested in sleeping with you, just so we're clear. If that's not a problem, I'd love to."

"Yeah, I didn't mean – I uh, you're really cute and all, but I'm not looking for anything right now." He shifts the books in his hand. "I mean, I'm mostly, y'no. I'm not looking." Bucky mentally facepalms. He's good at talking to people: talking to people is literally what he gets paid for. He doesn't know what it is about these guys that just undermines any ability he has to talk sense.

Peggy turns away, and for one awkward moment Bucky thinks she's blowing him off after all, but then she glances back and says, "Aren't you coming then?"

He pays for his books, and Peggy takes him to a veggie place nearby, tucked away so that he'd never have found it without being told. She sends him to find a table while she orders them both coffee, and the special for Bucky, whatever it turns out to be. 

"Here we are," Peggy says, coming over with their drinks on a tray. She passes Bucky a large cappuccino, and a steaming bowl of some kind of stew. "I got us some cake to share too," she says, setting down a plate between them with a smile. "Don't worry, they're vegan."

"Wow, thanks," he says, genuinely touched. "This is really nice of you."

"Don't thank me, I'm feeding you up."

That surprises a laugh out of him. "Man, this is like being back at my sister's place. What makes you think I need feeding up?"

Peggy shrugs. "Well, perhaps I'm just used to feeding up Steve and he refuses to come here with me now, so I need a new project."

"Right," Bucky says, nodding and tucking into his stew. "He hates vegans."

For some reason, that makes Peggy laugh really loudly. "Not exactly," she says, grinning at him. "He dated one of the baristas here, a really mean vegan. It didn't end well."

Bucky swallows. "Oh, yeah, that makes sense."

"Also he really loves milkshakes."

"He does know vegans have milkshakes too, right?"

But Peggy isn't listening. "Anything with a straw in it, really. He's got one hell of an oral fixation."

Bucky snorts, and instantly regrets eating within ten feet of Peggy when chipotle sauce goes up his nose. "Sorry," he says, between coughs. "Didn't expect that."

"Nobody ever does."

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "We're talking about Steve a lot considering he isn't here."

Peggy gives him a wry smile. "Would you rather we talk about you?"

"Not you?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Are you two-" Bucky hesitates. 

"Fucking?" Peggy has a wicked grin. "That's a question about Steve."

"So I'm curious."

"Not currently."

Bucky smiles and eats another few mouthfuls. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"I thought you weren't interested. Was that a naughty fib?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "I've already promised myself, I won't sleep with my neighbors."

"Steve _will_ be disappointed." Bucky chooses to ignore that, but Peggy isn't about to let it drop so easily. "He said you looked good enough to eat, standing at the door in your tiny underwear."

Bucky picks up his coffee and eyes her over the rim of the cup. "Steve's quite the gossip."

"You made an impression."

Bucky tips his head back and laughs. "This is both the weirdest and hottest conversation I've had in months. I'm starting to think you might be Steve's pimp."

"I take a very reasonable cut."

"Let me guess, he's a hooker with a heart of gold."

"Twenty-four carat."

Bucky sighs. "It's really sweet of you to try, Peggy, but I mean it when I say I'm not looking for anything right now. And I'm sure Steve is capable of getting his own dates too."

"Well, it's been known," she says, sounding unconvinced. She takes a sip of her coffee, while Bucky finishes his stew. "So, what are you doing in New York?"

"I grew up nearby." He scrapes out the bowl with his spoon and tries not to feel self-conscious about the fact that Peggy is watching him so closely. "The house was my Aunt's, but she died a month ago."

"I'm so sorry," Peggy says. He looks up, and her eyes are solemn and kind, perhaps the first truly serious look he's seen on her face. "Were you close?"

Bucky shrugs. "More when we were younger - Becca and me, I mean. She's four years older than me. We used to stay with our Aunt Cassie a lot. My dad was in the military so our family moved around sometimes, but my mom tried to keep us here as much as possible, so I spent a lot of time in that house when I was a kid."

Peggy has the hint of a smile on her face, entirely engrossed by his story. "And who lived in our house then?"

"I haven't a clue, it was a long time ago." He looks toward the ceiling, searching through the cluttered trunk of his childhood for something familiar. "This old pair of queens used to live on the street, maybe it was them. They'd been together practically their whole lives, lived in the city since the twenties." 

True or not, Peggy seems delighted by his story. "Do you remember their names?" Bucky shakes his head, and she rifles through her purse for a pen. "Maybe I can find out who they were. You're not just teasing me, are you?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Swear to God. It's funny because I was just a little kid then, so I didn't know that they were gay, but looking back on it later as a teenager, I realized that being around them made me feel a lot better about who I was." It occurs to Bucky that he's probably oversharing, but when he pauses and pushes his empty bowl away, Peggy leans forward to rest her chin on her hand and asks him to go on. "Well, my parents have always been really good about me being bi, but school was another matter." He smiles and nudges the plate of cakes to the center of the table. "Your turn."

With a fluid gesture, Peggy moves her elbow from the table and pulls the plate toward her. She picks up a fork and cuts herself a piece of carrot cake. "Well," she says, and Bucky wonders how she can sound simultaneously like a school teacher and a porn star. Maybe it's just the accent. "I grew up in England, obviously. Went to boarding school at eleven, learned to love pussy at thirteen, and met Steve on a beach in Cumbria when I was eighteen." She puts the cake in her mouth and chews it slowly. Bucky really shouldn't just watch her, but he can't seem to help it. "Long story short, I changed my university application to New York and moved back here with him. We realized we were better friends than lovers, and so that's how we stayed."

"Just like that," Bucky says, smiling, and genuinely pleased for them. 

She nods and offers him the plate of cake. "Just like that. So you, you had a bad breakup?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

Peggy gives him a shrewd smile. "Of course, but I think you've had worse than most, and recently." This is definitely not where Bucky wants the conversation to go, but apparently Peggy senses that, because she smiles and shrugs lightly. "I'm just wondering what I should tell Steve, about his chances."

"Shit, you _are_ his pimp, aren't you?"

"I'm a concerned citizen."

"You mean concerned immigrant."

"Precisely."

Bucky sighs and helps himself to a really big mouthful of cake. He washes it down with the dregs of his cooling coffee. "You can tell him I'm deeply unavailable."

"Pity," she says, and glances at her watch. "Shit, I'm afraid I have to get back to work. I hope I'll see you again soon."

"Seeya around." Bucky offers her a little salute as she gets up and turns to leave. 

He finishes his coffee and checks his phone. No messages, of course. He's lost his appetite for the cake, but there's only a little left anyway, so he doesn't feel too bad about leaving it. Bucky gets to his feet and checks his pockets for his wallet, keys etc. It's fantastic to finally have his own place, his freedom, but he feels anxious and wary a lot: unused to the solitude, prone to losing things. Becca sends him texts a couple of times a day, checking up and teasing. After two years of living in each other's pockets, it's not really surprising that they're having trouble being apart. 

He's unsettled too by Peggy's reading of him. He's dated very sporadically since the accident, and yeah, maybe a big part of that is his breakup, but enough time has gone past that Bucky doesn't want to - that he _doesn't_ define his life by that anymore. His decision not to date his idiot next door neighbor doesn't have to be related to his ex-boyfriend. He scowls and shoots Becca a grumpy text.

_Neighbor trying to set me up with her dumb boyfriend._

_Is he hot?_

_Not the point._

_Bang him you idiot._

_He hates punks._

_You're not a punk anymore._

_And vegans._

_I've seen you eating pumpkin pie. Pumpkin pie is not vegan._

_I don't like him._

Two seconds later his phone starts ringing, and Bucky answers cautiously. "Yeah?"

"For fuck's sake, Bucky. Why are you trying to make me talk you into fucking someone? Just fuck him. Christ knows you need to get fucking laid."

"Wow, did you eat toilet mouth wheaties this morning?"

"I ate my boyfriend's dick this morning, what the fuck do you want."

Bucky groans and hangs up on her.

 _Love you_ , she texts him a minute later. 

_Love you too._

 

 

It isn't like Bucky to feel guilty over nothing, but after he talks to Peggy, he can't get it out of his head that Steve is upset with him. No, he doesn't particularly _care_ , but Steve seems like an okay guy, even if every other thing he says is dumb as fuck. Peggy's nice anyway, so Bucky can apologize for her sake if nothing else. 

He goes home and walks around his big dump of a house for a while, looking at the mattress on the floor that is his sad excuse for a bed, the boxes of mugs and kitchen knives that are still heaped up in the spare room, and he decides that before he can do anything, he's got to sort himself out. He starts in the bedroom, making a list of things that he needs to order, fix or throw out. The bathroom gets the same treatment, then he hauls the boxes of kitchen junk downstairs and starts choosing cupboards for things. 

After a couple of hours, it's looking a little more lived in, and he sets up the TV with the stack of DVDs beside it. Just like a normal home. Once everything is in some kind of reasonable order, he heads out again to the store, and picks up half a dozen ingredients. He found his favorite baking try while he was unpacking, and it's given him an idea.  
Bucky has always really liked cooking: it relaxes him, and it's comforting to follow a set of instructions and come out with something that looks the way it's supposed to. Just like no time he ever set up flat pack furniture. Brownies, on the other hand, are easy as pie. Easier, in fact, because good pastry takes ages to make. He hesitates when he goes to add the nuts. Knowing his luck, Steve will turn out to be allergic, so he holds off just in case. The last thing he needs to do right now is accidentally kill someone. 

While the brownies are baking, he walks into the den and picks up one of the books he got from the bookstore. It's starting to get dark out, but not enough to turn the lights on yet. Over the street, Peggy and Steve have their lights on, and Bucky can't help looking. He's always been addicted to looking in people's windows. He can see Steve sitting at a table, though Bucky can't tell what he's doing. He gets up and goes closer to the window, and he realizes it's not a table but a piano, and Steve is playing and singing. Bucky goes outside to sit on the stoop with his book in hand. From across the street he can hear the faint sound of a mellow jazz tune, not one that he knows, and the soft croon of Steve's voice. It's really calming somehow, and he stays there listening to Steve muddle through bits and pieces of tunes so often that Bucky thinks he must be composing. Eventually, the cooker beeps to let him know that his thirty minutes are up, and he ducks back inside, surprised to find that he stayed so long. It feels like he just sat down. 

Fetching the brownies out of the oven, Bucky finds himself blinking back tears, and he stops and straightens up. It's been a long time since he thought about how much he misses writing music, at least as more than a passing regret. The oven is blasting heat on his legs, so he shuts it and dumps the tray of brownies on top of the cooker. He wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist and hunts for a knife to test the brownies. They're crispy on top and gooey underneath, and he puts them aside to cool, while he wanders back outside to the front step. Steve is still playing, something slow and sad that feels familiar, but Bucky can't quite pin it down. 

He puts his back against the door jamb, and for the first time in years, his fingers itch for a cigarette. He hasn't smoked since his mid teens, when he traded it for a less obvious kind of rebellion, but sometimes when he's restless enough, he finds himself longing for it just to occupy his fingers and his mouth. Steve stops playing abruptly, and Bucky leans forward with a surge of disappointment. He waits a few minutes in the hopes that he'll start again, but he disappears from the window and doesn't come back. 

With a sigh, Bucky pushes himself to his feet and goes inside to fetch the brownies.

 

 

Steve answers the door in sweatpants and a grey tank top, which is by far the most casual Bucky has yet seen him. He wouldn't actually have thought it was possible for Steve to be wearing anything that wasn't floral, stripy or homemade. He hasn't styled his hair either, and it flops down over one eye, so that every now and then he reaches up to brush it back. Bucky's mouth goes dry.

"Bucky," Steve says, his face lighting up. "How's it going?"

"Hey, Steve." Bucky shuffles his feet awkwardly. He hadn't actually thought about what he was going to say once he got here, or if he had, it all went out of his head the second he saw Steve's toes peeking out from the sweatpants that are at least three inches too long for him. 

"You wanna come in?"

Bucky shakes his head and holds out the tray of brownies. "No, thanks, I just came to bring you this."

"Are you serious?" Steve looks like he might actually explode, he's smiling so hard as he takes it. "Thank you! This looks amazing!"

"I uh," Bucky says hesitantly, wondering for the second time that day why the fuck he can't seem to talk normally around Steve and Peggy. "I was an asshole earlier, sorry. Not a morning person. I mean, not when I've been up all night."

Steve laughs gently. "Yeah, because it's so unreasonable of you to be an asshole when some idiot woke you up." His smile is soft, and when his hair falls into his eyes again Bucky starts regretting his life choices. Namely: not sleeping with his neighbors. Steve sets the tray of brownies to one side and gestures behind him. "Sure you don't wanna come in for a beer or something?"

Bucky wants to, he really does, but he doesn't think he could trust himself around Steve right now, and shakes his head quickly. "I'd like to - raincheck?" 

"You're on a promise," Steve says, nodding.

Bucky tries not to think about that, because he's made up his mind, he _has_. He takes a few steps down to the street, then pauses suddenly and turns back before Steve shuts the door. "Hey, uh. I heard you playing earlier. It sounded really good."

Steve colors and shifts awkwardly. Bucky looks at his toes again. "Thanks, it wasn't really anything."

"No, it sounded good. Keep going with it, there's something in there."

"Thanks. Night, Bucky." 

"Night," he says, turning away and shoving his hand in his pocket. He's trying to remember why he decided a relationship was a bad idea right now, but all he can think about is how Steve looked ready to curl up and nap, and whether he would've felt as soft as he looked.

 

 

Bucky's off rota for ten days after that, which means he's going to slip back into daytime hours and then have to fix it again in a week. He's never really got the hang of night shifts, but he likes being out in the city at night, loves the walk home in the morning air. He messes around on his computer for most of the night, reads half of one of the books he bought, and then pulls on his running shoes at about four to go jogging. He keeps meaning to look for a local gym too, but he should be getting his Internet put in later so he can sort it out then. It's been a while since he ran, really ran, and the morning is fresh enough to keep him going a little further than he feels like he can. He gets home around five thirty, his legs weak and his chest light. He walks back along the other side of the street, waiting until he passes Peggy and Steve's place to cross over. Their trash cans are sitting on the sidewalk by the steps, and Bucky can't help but notice that in the top of one is a big mess of brownies. 

Bucky feels his face fall and disappointment punches him right in the gut. He feels stupid. So stupid. He glares up at their door for a second, then aims a half-hearted kick at the trash can, before crossing the street and going home. He just doesn't get Steve. Either the guy likes him or he doesn't, and Bucky's quickly reaching the point where he just doesn't care either way. He's gone to a lot of effort over the past year to strip out all the bullshit from his life, the last thing he needs is more drama. He heads upstairs and starts running a bath. He really wants a shower, but the plumber isn't due until the afternoon and the existing shower is fucked. Bucky's planning to replace the bathroom at some point, but for now he just wants a goddamn working shower. 

He sits on the toilet seat while he waits for the bath to fill, but he's too pent up, itching to do something. He wishes he'd taken the time to set up the punching bag with the rest of his exercise equipment like he keeps meaning to, and decides better late than never. He digs his phone out of the wreck of his bed and shoots a text to his friends, finding out who's got time later for a little DIY. Also, knowing them, probably an impromptu jamming session. The bath is almost ready, so he strips off his sweaty running gear and climbs into the too-hot water. 

When he first had the operation, his friends avoided playing around him at all, even avoided _talking_ about music, until Bucky explained that actually not having any at all was way worse than just not being able to play. Also he's assured them that one day he's gonna win the lottery and get a bionic arm and then he'll outplay every single one of them. Every now and then they try and talk him into writing again, but Bucky just doesn't feel like he has anything to say right now. He spent so long talking himself in circles in therapy after the accident and getting nowhere, he'd rather just wait until he's got something to talk about. 

In the bath, Bucky finds himself thinking about Steve again, and he swears under his breath. He doesn't want to think about Steve, or the way he smiles when he sees Bucky, or the way he looks like Bucky could pick him up with one arm (the irony of which does not escape him). He wonders how well Steve can see without those big chunky glasses of his, and wonders uncharitably if they even have a prescription lens in them at all. He wonders if he took off Steve's glasses, whether Steve would have to lean in close to see him, those big blue eyes staring up at him. God, Bucky really needs to stop. He closes his eyes and strokes himself slowly, half-heartedly under the water, but the lack of sleep is catching up on him and he feels himself drifting.

Sometime later, he wakes up in a bath full of lukewarm water, while downstairs someone is knocking loudly on the door. Bucky doesn't like that this is becoming a thing. He jumps out of the bath and wraps himself in a towel before hurrying downstairs. It had better not be Steve at the door, or Bucky might just do something they'll both regret. 

It's not Steve, which is a blessing really, but gives Bucky a vague sense of disappointment. 

"Oh," says the woman on the door, running her eyes over him quickly before snapping them back up to his face. "I'm here to sort out your phone line. Should I come back?"

"No, no," Bucky says quickly. "Sorry, I fell asleep in the bath, I'll just run and get dressed."

She nods, and warily steps inside when he leaves the door wide for her. _Good one, Bucky_ , he curses himself as he hurries up the stairs. _Why don't we have the whole damn neighborhood think you're a sex criminal._ He glances at the alarm clock as he starts rooting through drawers for his clothes. It's around eight thirty, which probably explains why he's suddenly starving. He wonders what time that veggie place opens. Bucky pulls on a t-shirt, and glances out the window. He doesn't mean to look at the house opposite, really, but he can't help it when he looks up and sees Steve there in the window, buck naked but for his glasses, stretching mid-yawn. Bucky looks away, because he really doesn't want to be _that guy_. Even if he really kind of does. He pulls on some pants and hurries downstairs, trying not to think about Steve's adorable, skinny little butt, and finds the phone engineer hauling his couch out of the way. 

"Hey," he says, awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm decent now."

"Appreciate it," she says, straightening up and giving him a professional smile. "I hate having to mace my customers."

Bucky laughs and shoves his hand in his pocket. "You want a coffee or anything?"

She shakes her head. "Thanks, but this should only take ten minutes."

He goes to the kitchen anyway and makes himself some tea, then stares into his empty fridge for a few minutes. 

"I like your tattoos by the way!" the woman calls from the other room. Bucky goes through with his tea. 

"Thanks, you got any?"

She pauses in what she's doing and rolls back the sleeve of her t-shirt to show a design snaking back across her shoulder. "Just a few. My boyfriend's a tattoo artist."

"In the city?" She nods. "You should give me his number. I haven't had new ink in a while."

She does, just as soon as she's finished with the wiring. "Tell me you're getting the electrics looked at."

Bucky grins. "Tomorrow."

"Good, this place needs some serious TLC. You just moved in?"

"Just last week."

"Well, good luck with it," she says, going to shake his hand. "Maybe I'll see you at the tattoo parlor."

"You bet."

After she's gone, Bucky puts the number up on his fridge and thinks about what he'd like to get. Before the accident, it was an obsession, and he'd blow his money on a new tattoo every chance he got. Some of them were carefully planned out, others were more of a drunken, spur of the moment thing, but he knows the story behind each one. 

As soon as he's finished his tea, he puts his shoes on and goes out to find breakfast. When he walks outside, he spots Peggy coming down the steps opposite to put something in the trash. She waves at him, and Bucky gives her a curt nod in reply, remembering his brownies and fighting the urge to scowl.


	2. Chapter 2

Some days, Bucky really regrets answering his front door. Most of the time it's because an indeterminate number of Howling Commandos are standing on the other side.

"Get your damn coat, Barnes. We're going to a party."

Dugan is on his porch, wearing a grin and a KISS t-shirt, and he is clearly not taking no for an answer. Bucky folds his arms anyway.

"You gonna make me?"

"Yup. And don't say it, Barnes, I don't need an army to take you down with me. You know I love a suicide mission."

It might make him a sap, but it's the little things that get him with his friends, and as much as he complains about it, he's really glad sometimes that they refuse to let him hide away and become a recluse as well as a disabled ex-band member. He smiles, and accepts a bro hug/handclasp, because it's that or an embarrassingly clingy embrace - he knows what Dugan is like and it's all or nothing - and goes to fetch his jacket.

The party isn't that far, in a trendy part of Brooklyn near where Bucky grew up, though the neighborhoods have changed a lot in between him leaving and coming back again. The apartment building is an old converted warehouse, and the apartments are pretty industrial with bare brick and exposed fittings in the ceiling. Even though they arrive just after eight, it's already pretty rammed. He sees, or rather hears, a couple of the Commandos as soon as he walks in, and he tracks them down before he does anything else. It's not like he needs to hurry before the booze is gone. Morita and Dernier are having a heated discussion with two women who might be gay or just androgynously punk - Bucky's gaydar is definitely on the fritz - but they pause in their vitally important music debate to introduce him. 

"Bucky used to be in our band," Morita says, slapping him on the chest in greeting. "We had to kick him out 'cause he was too good, made the rest of us look bad."

"Speak for yourself," Dernier mutters. 

Bucky stays and chats for a bit, steering the conversation away from furious argument and closer to a healthy exchange of ideas. One of the girls, Clara, is _definitely_ smiling at him in an interested way. She's short and a little plump and has a shock of pale pink hair swept to one side, and what's more, she's genuinely pretty interesting. They break away from the others to find a drink, and end up chatting on a couch for a little while. 

"Have you heard of Lehigh?" she asks him when there's a break in the conversation. "I'm sure I saw the singer earlier, but I didn't get a chance to talk to her."

Bucky just shrugs. "Sorry, not a clue."

"They're probably not your kind of thing, indie singer-songwriter couple." She smiles, and he notices that her front teeth are slightly wonky. It's really endearing. 

"So, what's their music like?" he asks, trying to force interest in the band.

"Oh, most of it's pretty mellow, but they did this one really heavy EP. They sound a bit like Wye Oak but not as heavy. Maybe more like Daughter? But not as depressing." 

That vaguely makes sense to Bucky, but he's not overly familiar with either, and he smiles apologetically. "Sorry, I'm not really caught up since I left college."

Clara kicks out her feet, stretching her legs. "The singer is really hot, I think she moved to the States a few years back. I wonder if it really was her."

"Maybe she's still here. You should say hi."

She grins at him. "Maybe I will. I'll catch you later?"

Bucky nods, and hopes she doesn't. He almost wants to pursue it, but he finds that he just doesn't have the energy to keep it going. He doesn't ask for her number, and he feels bad about it, but he would feel worse for taking it and never calling. He needs a little time off from disappointing people. 

Clara skips off into the crowd, and Bucky heads to the kitchen for a glass of water, but halfway there someone stumbles into him, a dancing someone with blond hair and chunky glasses. _Shit_. 

"Bucky!" Steve says loudly, looking up at him with a big grin. "What're you doing here?" This is literally the last conversation he wants to have right now, and the last place he wants to have it. The worst part is that Steve looks so pleased to see him; apparently he's better at faking than Bucky is.

"Just getting a drink," he says with a tight smile. "I'll see you later, okay?"

He pushes on through the crowd, ignoring Steve's crestfallen expression, and fetches himself a drink. He doesn't worry about finding someone else to talk to, he always manages to strike up a conversation, but he's suddenly not in the party mood anymore. He does a round of the room, pausing to salute Dernier, who has his arm around Clara's punk friend from before, and to his total lack of surprise, he spies Peggy on a chaise-longue. It seems that she and Steve don't really go anywhere without each other, and Bucky is amazed once more that they ever manage to date other people when they're joined at the hip, head, and presumably the groin. Peggy is sitting between two other women, and looking intently from one to the other as they chat. Bucky remembers suddenly that she's sixty-seventy per cent into women, and he has a feeling that he's watching Peggy's night unfold. It gives him a little twinge of envy, because the last time he had a threesome, he had two arms, a falling GPA, and an asshole for a boyfriend. Alright, so he only misses one of those things, but it does make him long for some carefree casual sex and a time when not having a real job didn't _matter_. 

Bucky circles back around to the main party, avoiding the dancing as much as possible this time, but apparently he's covered in idiot magnets or something, because as he steps into the hallway, he sees Steve being backed up into a wall by a sleazy looking guy with dark hair and big, wire-rimmed glasses like something out of The Andromeda Strain. Steve doesn't look all that into it, but he doesn't look that upset either, as the guy rests a hand by Steve's head and gestures with the beer in his other hand. 

Bucky's just wondering if he should intervene when Dugan slaps an arm around his shoulders, and drags him away to meet a fan. Not just that, but a fan who actually remembers the Howling Commandos from when Bucky was frontman. He leaves Steve to it, feeling strangely nervy and on edge. Dugan drags him through the party, and while the familiar laugh and beery breath on his neck is comforting somehow, it's also not what he needs right now. Bucky smiles and makes nice with the fan, a skinny kid about his own age or a little younger, who also asks him if he knows about Lehigh - seriously, Bucky needs to bandcamp this shit - and tries to offer him a drink at least three times. 

He escapes eventually, and on his way to the bathroom he meets Peggy. She looks as happy to see him as Steve had, and leans in to kiss him firmly on the cheek. Too late, he notices her bright red lipstick. "How are you?" she asks, giving him all her attention despite the two drop dead gorgeous women waiting just behind her, whispering between themselves. "We haven't seen you around."

"Just busy," he says, affecting a casual shrug. "You having a good time?"

Peggy winks at him. "Very shortly," she says, flashing her teeth behind that red mouth. "As soon as I rescue Steve."

"Rescue?"

She rolls her eyes. "Ex-boyfriend has him cornered," she says with a sigh. "Can't take a hint."

Bucky thinks about the guy hulking over Steve in the hallway, and feels really bad about not intervening. "I'll handle it," he says, nodding at Peggy's dates. "Go enjoy yourself."

Peggy looks surprised, but she doesn't hesitate. "Man of the hour," she says proudly, patting his chest. "Just get a bit handsy with Steve, he'll back right off."

"Wait-" Bucky says, but Peggy melts back into the crowd with her dates, and Bucky is left to stand there and regret his life choices. He really doesn't want to get involved in Steve's love life, but he also can't just let the guy get screwed around when he could be helping. He checks the hallway, but of course they've vanished, and searches the rest of the party without much success. After about fifteen minutes he realizes they must have left, and he decides it's time to bail himself. The coat room door is ajar, so Bucky pushes it open a crack, then hesitates when he sees someone - two someones - sitting on the bed. He's grateful at least that he didn't interrupt something more R rated, but it still turns his stomach when he recognizes Steve for the third time that evening. They're talking quietly, facing away from him, but their faces are half-turned so he can see Steve's troubled expression. The ex-boyfriend reaches out to touch Steve's face, and he closes his eyes. They're going to kiss, Bucky just knows it, and he really needs to announce himself or get the hell out of there, but he sees the hesitation, the way Steve starts to turn away as the guy leans in, and he knows his cue.

"Hey," he says, casual but loud enough to interrupt. "Steve, you still owe me a dance."

"We're a little busy here, soldier," the dark-haired guy says, glancing at Bucky's left arm. "You mind waiting?"

Steve pushes him away and gets to his feet. "No," he says, "we're done."

"Stevie-"

"Isn't your wife waiting, _Howie_?"

The guy looks stung, but he just forces it into a nonchalant shrug and offers Bucky a sarcastic salute. "He's all yours then, I guess."

Bucky scowls. The guy looks really familiar, but he can't work out why. " _He_ can do what he wants, asshole."

'Howie' just sneers and shoves his way past Bucky, which he probably regrets when Bucky doesn't move a damn inch. He turns back to Steve and finds him watching with an unreadable expression, but if Bucky had to put an emotion to it he'd say _punching_. He knows punching isn't an emotion but it's just the word that best fits right then. 

"Are you gonna punch me?" he asks Steve, following him into the corridor after he's found his jacket off the heap.

Steve looks sideways at him. "I dunno, are you gonna do that again?"

"Probably not," Bucky says. _Not if this is how it turns out_. 

"Great, then I won't punch you."

"Great."

Steve doesn't seem interested in making more conversation then, and Bucky already has his jacket in his hand, so he decides the best course of action is cut and run. Honestly, he thinks it might actually have been worse if Steve had been grateful anyway.

 

 

Because of the move, Bucky had to skip his last physical therapy session, and his therapist Susan does _not_ look impressed with him when he shows up on her table. He's back with his sister just for the weekend, for his last session with Susan. She's already sent him some referrals for specialists in the city, but if he's honest with himself, he's been putting it off because he can't imagine anyone else being as good. 

"Happy with the house?" she asks, once she's been through all the regular questions (How's the arm? How are you coping? Any problems?). 

"It needs a lot of work," Bucky says breathlessly, struggling through a sudden bite of pain. 

"You planning to do that all work yourself?" she asks in her disapproving voice.

He shakes his head. "My friends'll help out, at least until they go away on tour."

"Uh huh. Breathe in."

Bucky used to hate the therapy sessions, and Becca practically had to restrain him to get him to his first appointment, but he's gotten used to it over the past two years. The worst part was feeling like they were talking to him like a child, telling him things he already knew over and over. Bucky would've just handled his own recovery if he could, but that wasn't an option, and he was grateful to Becca for putting up with him until they found a therapist he could actually bear to work with. Susan understands where he's coming from; she always tells him what she's doing but doesn't humiliate him by explaining the details, and she also doesn't take his bullshit. Her table, she always says, is a non-deflection zone, and Bucky has sure as hell put that to the test over the past two years.

"How are you doing otherwise?"

Bucky smiles tightly. He also likes Susan because she actually bothers to liaise with his psych therapist, so she knows when there's shit going on and she forces him to talk about. It's like getting two therapists for the price of one. Even if it feels like the price of two. Bucky's ever thankful for his Aunt Cassie's inheritance, even if he misses the hell out of her still. 

"Nice to be back in New York," he says, smiling.

"Made any friends yet?"

He shrugs. "Not really. There's a couple across the street but I don't think they like me."

"You like them?"

"No, I - maybe? The guy is really cute." He pauses. "Well, they're both really cute, but we didn't hit it off."

"First impressions aren't everything."

Bucky laughs awkwardly. "Apparently second and third aren't great either."

They're both silent for a while as she rolls him over and goes into some deep tissue massage on his shoulders. The only conversation is Susan asking him about his workout routine, if he's still running, whether something hurts or not - she always knows, but she asks just the same. 

"You like this guy, don't you?"

Bucky sighs, but facedown on the therapy table is one of the only times he's really honest and he's not gonna change that now. "I really don't know why, but yeah. He seems like a total idiot and I'm pretty sure he hates me, but I still want him to like me." Bucky shakes his head. "I don't get it."

"Take it from someone who knows, our bodies make us do a lot of stuff we don't understand. Generally best not to fight it."

"Susan, you sound like Yoda sometimes."

"Roll over, you will," she says, deadpan. "Check your arm, I must."

Bucky grins up at her. "You know, I'm really looking forward to meeting my new therapist."

"Don't lie to me, Bucky, I've seen you naked. I know when you're lying." Susan is about his mom's age, and if anyone else his mom's age talked to Bucky like that he'd probably kill himself, but Susan is like a weird older sister or something and he lets her get away with it. "Hey," she adds, as she leans down on his shoulder. "Ask that guy out, okay? Do it for me."

"I'll think about it."

"Good. Now roll onto your side, sweetheart."

 

 

Bucky hates clubs, and he hates dancing, and most of all he hates his friends for knowing that, and for bringing him out to a hipster bar instead. They all stick out like a hardcore thumb: dirty anarchists with undercuts mixing with ubergroomed, bearded guys in sleeveless plaid shirts, and girls in granddad cardigans and dresses they've made themselves. It's a nice atmosphere though, and the Howling Commandos have made themselves right at home as usual. Bucky doesn't regret being there, but he does regret confiding in his friends about Steve, because they've now made it their mission to get him laid, if not by Steve, then by a lookalike. Failing that, at least by a guy. Bucky is worried, mostly because he knows they can do it. He's never known them screw up a mission yet. Unless it's on purpose. 

He can't help being impressed by their work so far. The bar has an entire dry menu for 'losers' like him, and Bucky is slowly working his way through their back catalog of mocktails at the Commandos' expense. They've also got him two phone numbers so far, and he's spent the last twenty minutes being talked to death by a hot architect with plugs in his earlobes and jeans so skinny that Bucky can practically see how big his balls are. They're big. Eventually, Bucky has had enough of building regs and excuses himself to the bathroom. Hot architect guy offers him a hand, which Bucky smoothly declines. 

Near the bar, he bumps into Falsworth, who is quickly heading through tipsy and out the other side into 'decidedly merry, old stick', which he emphasizes by grabbing Bucky's ass and pulling him into a sweaty hug. "Hey, if we don't find anyone, I'll take you home and give you a good rogering!" he shouts, louder than the volume of the bar actually requires. Bucky tries to ignore the fact that people are looking at them. Falsworth is sweet, but Bucky learned the hard way that they are _not_ compatible in the sack.

"It's okay," he yells back, patting Falsworth on the chest. "I'm pretty tired, gonna head home!"

Falsworth rolls his eyes. "Have fun with your remaining hand." Bucky punches him in the arm, mostly because it's expected, and heads for the exit. He passes Dernier and Jones near the door, and they give him shit for the sake of form, but they don't try and pressure him into staying, which he appreciates. 

The night is still balmy when he steps outside, almost sticky, but Bucky just smiles, glad to be back in New York. He sticks his hand in his pocket and starts walking. It would make more sense to grab a taxi, but he hates taxis, and after the close heat of the bar, he needs some air, even if it's not all that fresh. 

After a few blocks, Bucky hears raised voices and spots three college kids over the road, hassling a kid walking home alone. He swears under his breath and pulls out his cell, already dialing 911, then stops. He's got this. He crosses over, putting all the swagger and confidence he's got into his walk. One of them yells something, which Bucky doesn't quite catch but which definitely contained the word _faggot_ , and shoves the kid over on his ass. Yeah, Bucky is _definitely_ handling this himself. 

"Hey ladies," he shouts, just as the kid stands back up like a motherfuckin' trooper, and Bucky sees that it's Steve. He hesitates, and he must have the dumbest look on his face, because it's _Steve_ , and because of all the streets in New York to get beat up on, he picked the one Bucky was walking home on. 

"Bucky?" Steve ducks away from the bullies and darts over to him.

"What the fuck do you want?" asks one of the assholes, a fat guy in a college shirt. He can't be more than twenty, and he's obviously drunk. His friends aren't much better off. 

"I want you to go pick on someone your own damn size." Bucky eyes the guy up and down, lingering on his big stomach. "If you can find anyone."

"You stupid motherfucker," the guy says, reeling his fist back. 

Bucky tucks Steve behind him, putting himself in the way. "What, you gonna hit a cripple, tough guy?"

He hesitates, and his friends look worried. They clearly hadn't noticed the missing arm before that. "This guy's nuts, man. Let's just get out of here."

Bucky nods and waves his cell at them. "I called 911 before I walked over here, so that's probably a good idea. I hear the police are cracking down on hate crime lately." He looks over his shoulder at Steve. "What was it they called you? Maggot?"

"A faggot," Steve spits, fury making his eyes look dark. 

"Right, right." Bucky jabs fatboy in the chest with his phone. "Now get the fuck outta here, and stop beating up guys you secretly wanna bang."

"Fuck you," he snaps, backing away, "and fuck your boyfriend too."

"Oh, I'm gonna!" Bucky yells at their retreating backs. He slings his arm over Steve's shoulder and steers him in the other direction. He can feel Steve tense and angry beside him, but Steve waits until they reach the end of the street and take a left before he says anything. 

"They gone?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Good," Steve snaps as he throws Bucky's arm off him. "I really didn't need your help back there."

"Right," Bucky drawls, rolling his eyes. "So you have a thing for getting stomped on. Next time, do it somewhere I don't have to watch."

"You're an asshole."

"At least I'm not the asshole who throws away people's asshole apology brownies!" Bucky snaps back, before he can stop himself. 

Steve colors, and looks both sheepish and furious at once. "You went through my trash?"

"What? No! I-"

"For your information, those brownies smelled _fucking_ awesome, but my idiot friend brought over his dog after you left, and the idiot dog tried to eat the brownies and slobbered all over them. We had to take him to the vet to get his stomach pumped!"

Bucky just stares at him. He hadn't pictured Steve as one for explosive rants so it takes him by surprise. And then he starts laughing, because what else is there to do? Luckily Steve joins in, and they both keep on going until they're almost crying, and Steve has to fetch an inhaler from his pocket and suck on it a few times until he can breathe normally again.

"You good?" Bucky asks, grabbing his upper arm. Steve nods, flashing him a wicked grin, and Bucky nudges him gently. "Come on, let's get home."

"Hey," Steve says eventually, as they keep on walking. "So, Peggy told me you don't want a relationship."

"Are you guys psychic or something?"

"No, stupid, we just _talk_ to each other. Something people do when they live together." Steve nudges him with his shoulder. "Stop deflecting."

"Sorry, force of habit."

"Uh huh." Steve sighs loudly. "Hey, uh. Thanks for that. For helping me out."

"It's fine."

"No man, really, you could've just let it happen, pretended you didn't see. Most people would."

"Not me."

"So, about saying you were gonna fuck me-"

"Aw jeez. Seriously?"

"I mean, if you want. Unless you're not into college boy castoffs."

Bucky laughs and shakes his head. "I think - we should try being friends."

If Steve is disappointed, he hides it well. "Okay, I'd like that."

Steve reaches over and takes his hand. It makes Bucky's heart pound, but it's nice, it's comforting, even if both their hands are a little clammy, and Bucky has to change his gait to keep in time with Steve's tiny legs. They don't talk much on their way back, just trade stories about nights out and this and that. When they reach Steve's steps, he lets go of Bucky's hand and gives him a crooked smile. "You want a beer?"

"No, I-" Bucky says hesitantly, already taking a step away

"How about tea then?" Steve asks pointedly. He raises one eyebrow, giving Bucky a calculating look. "You don't drink, do you?"

Bucky shrugs. "Guilty."

"You could just tell me that, dude, don't make me look like an idiot for offering."

Bucky laughs guiltily. "Tea would be great."

Peggy is still up when they get in, wearing pyjamas and no makeup while she pieces together some fabric on the floor of the den. 

"Well hello," she says, looking up at them with a sly smile. "I didn't know you two were going out tonight."

"Hi, Peggy."

"Shut up, Peggy," Steve says.

"Don't mind me."

Steve goes over and bends down to hug her, kissing the top of her head, before he wanders into the kitchen to make tea. Bucky wouldn't mind staying and chatting to them both, but as soon as Steve is done he leads Bucky straight upstairs and up onto the roof. 

"Wow, it's nice up here," Bucky says, looking around at a dark jungle of garden. Then Steve switches the lights on, and Bucky literally has nothing to say. There's a big awning over half the roof, and a little space with a bench and deck chairs, surrounded by plants and fairy lights. It's beautiful, and Bucky thinks he'd be happy to stay there forever. "Steve, this is incredible," he says, breathlessly. 

Steve looks down at his feet. "Well, Peggy did a lot of it."

Bucky looks at him, lit gently by the fairy lights and the sodium glow from the street, and wants more than anything to kiss him. He takes half a step forward, and he really might have done it if Steve hadn't turned away quickly to pull two of the deck chairs over. 

"Here," he says, adjusting it so the seat is tipped right back. "Have a seat." Bucky sinks into it, wondering absently how he's gonna get out again, and realizing he doesn't really care. It's kind of nice to lie back and look up at the light pollution. 

"So, what else do you play?" he asks, as Steve pours some tea into cups and settles in beside him. 

"Oh, you mean besides piano? I can play guitar, bass, sax, violin-"

"Are you shitting me?"

Steve makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a giggle. "Piano and sax are my main ones. I mean, I can play flute, clarinet and cello a little bit, but I don't really, and I only play guitar when Peggy makes me, or when a piano's too big to pack."

Bucky lets out a low whistle. "Jesus, Steve. If you wanted to impress me, consider it done." He smiles and reaches for his tea. "So you must have a pretty good ear for music."

Too late, he remembers what Steve told him about his partial deafness: the party already seems like weeks ago. Steve pulls a face as he answers. "Yeah, just the one. I - apparently I have perfect pitch? But I lost most of the hearing in my right ear a couple of years ago."

"What happened?"

Steve sighs. "I got meningitis after college."

"Oh shit, I'm really sorry."

"Nah, I mean, I'm okay. It could've been way worse."

"I guess."

They fall silent for a minute, and Bucky can hear the rustle and gossiping of pigeons. He looks over at the shed in the corner of the roof, and Steve sees his gaze and smiles. "Oh, that's just my birds."

"Right."

"Hey, Bucky?"

"Uh huh?"

"I'm really glad you wanna be friends."

It's stupid, and Bucky is well aware it makes him a big dumb loser, but he just bursts out smiling. "We sound like teenagers, don't we?"

"Did you have this much fun as a teenager?"

"Oh, way more, but most of it involving alcohol and the clap." Bucky grins. "Promise I'm clean of both."

"No wonder you just wanna be friends, you have the worst seduction techniques."

Okay, _that_ requires an answer. Bucky turns over to face him, catching Steve's eyes in the dim light. "Believe me, when I actually seduce you, it's gonna be worth waiting for." Steve gazes back at him, his eyes wide and his mouth opening just a little as he licks his top lip absently. Bucky looks away. "How about your teenage years then?"

"Practising my instruments, drawing alone in my room, getting drunk with my abusive-as-it-turned-out boyfriend slash best friend."

"Shit," Bucky says, but he doesn't wanna touch the boyfriend thing, so he lets it hang for a second. "You can draw too?"

Steve laughs, open and free, his head tipped back so Bucky can see the silhouette of his throat. He can't fathom anyone ever wanting to hurt Steve, just the thought of it makes him want to put his fist through the guy's face. Steve turns a goofy smile on him, and Bucky can't help looking at Steve's mouth again. He knows that the more he wants to kiss Steve, the longer he's going to wait, and the longer he waits, the more he'll want it. It feels inevitable now, as if his mouth couldn't possibly have a purpose _but_ kissing Steve. From now on he'll just inject food if he has to. 

"What's on your mind, Bucky?"

Bucky feels himself blush, and he covers it with a shrug. "You ever draw people?"

"Sure. Is it creepy that I already drew you?"

"A little, yeah. Can I see?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. I mean - maybe? Not right now though."

"Oh you totally drew me in my underwear, didn't you."

"What do you do, Bucky?" Steve asks loudly, grinning at him, but even in the low light Bucky can see that he's blushing too. "Are you a nurse? Taxi driver? You work nights, right?"

Bucky laughs. "Yeah, they'd totally put a one-armed punk with a revoked license behind the wheel of a taxi."

"Um, hello? You live in _New York_."

"Good point. No, I don't really do anything right now. I part time at a local radio station, and I volunteer on a crisis helpline a few nights a month."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding."

"Well color me impressed."

"You too, huh?"

"Hey, you are my knight in shining armor."

"Gross."

Steve laughs. "Yeah."

They drink their tea silently for a few minutes. Bucky holds the cup close to his face and blows on it to cool it, and he catches Steve watching him. They chat a little more, but their voices are both getting drawn out and sleepy, and Bucky is struggling to keep his eyes open.

"I should get to bed," he says eventually, setting down his cup and trying to find some leverage to get out of the chair. Steve jumps up and offers him a hand, and after a moment's hesitation Bucky accepts it. "Thanks. Sorry to bail, but I haven't slept in about twenty-three hours."

Steve reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "You wanna stay? I mean, not to - I won't try anything."

"I only live across the road," Bucky says, trying to convince himself. He knows he should really say no.

"Yeah, sorry, you're right."

Fuck it. "Okay then, as long as you don't snore."

Steve draws a cross over his chest with his finger. "I swear."

 _You're an idiot_ , Bucky tells himself, but that doesn't stop him wanting to sleep in an actual bed, with an actual person, not to mention he's got this weird desire to see Steve when he's just woken up, before he puts on his glasses and his hipster clothes and shaves and smoothes down his hair - yeah, Bucky's got it bad.

Steve shows him where his room is, before going off to find Bucky a spare toothbrush. Apparently Peggy has spares for strays and wastrels. Bucky isn't sure which he is, but maybe both. While Steve is gone, Bucky takes the chance to look around his room. It's the same as his own opposite, but the other way around, and where Bucky's has a mattress and a crate with his alarm clock, clothes all in suitcases still, Steve's actually looks lived in. There's a tall bookcase, a wardrobe and drawers, and a huge bed with high panels at the top and bottom. Bucky imagines that sleeping in it is kind of like being in a little room full of blankets. There are a few unframed canvases on the walls, most of them abstract, but there's one of Peggy that tells him they must all be Steve's own work. There are floorboards underfoot, just like his own room, but with thick woollen rugs to stop the room getting cold. 

"Hey," Steve says, coming back with a toothbrush in hand. "You wanna borrow some sweats or something?"

"No offence, but I don't think I'll get into your clothes," Bucky says with a smile. "Got an objection to my underwear?"

"No sir."

"Okay then."

Bucky brushes his teeth, and comes back to find Steve sitting cross legged on the bed in a t-shirt and his boxers. He looks even tinier out of his clothes, as if Bucky could just pick him up with one hand or carry him around in his pocket or something. He has a book open in his lap, and his hair is falling over his face again and, really, Bucky should never have agreed to this because he doesn't see how he's ever gonna keep his hand to himself for an entire night.

"Whatcha reading?"

Steve grins sheepishly. "The Case Against the Human Race."

"Oh, Ligotti, yeah. We're all a waste of space, et cetera."

"You're fucking with me, right?" Steve asks, looking at him with a doubtful glare. "You saw it on the shelf."

Bucky laughs and shakes his head. "You don't get to be the only intellectual on the street."

Steve sighs and tosses the book to one side. "Fuck it, I'm going to pee. Don't get more perfect before I get back, I can't deal with it." He switches off the overhead light as he leaves, leaving just the bedside lamp on, which gives the room a cosy glow. "I'm just gonna say goodnight to Peggy, make yourself at home."

Bucky wonders if Steve thinks he needs looking after, or if he really is this considerate all the time. He even fetched Bucky a glass of water, just in case he gets thirsty in the night. Bucky checks that the door is shut, and undresses quickly, not really wanting to get caught with his pants halfway down. He keeps his tank top on mostly for modesty's sake, because showing Steve his nipples twice in one fortnight seems excessive if they're not actually on a beach or having sex, and he hopes that Steve isn't gonna be freaked out by sleeping in the same bed as his stump. He considers getting into the bed, but it doesn't seem right to get in before Steve comes back, so instead he goes to examine the contents of Steve's bookcase. As well as the expected pictures of Peggy, and people who are presumably friends and family, there's also one of Steve and Peggy kissing. He believes them when they say they're not together anymore, and honestly it makes him a little envious of what they have. They're in love, that much is obvious, it's just not the kind of love where they have to be together and have sex. Bucky doesn't really get it, but he's glad they have it. 

In addition to the photos, he finds a few CDs with the name Lehigh, which he remembers from the party the week before. He flips one open and finds a picture of Steve and Peggy singing on the sleeve, and all at once everything clicks together in his head. At the same time, he notices that a good third of the photos on the bookshelf have Steve or Peggy or both in them, performing together. So, apparently Steve and Peggy are a band? He wonders how the hell neither of them mentioned this yet. The door opens quietly, and Steve pops his head in.

"Hey, wow," Steve says in a stunned voice, hesitating in the doorway. "You really work out, huh?"

Bucky ignores that. "You and Peggy have a band?"

"If you can call it that. It's not like we're on a label or played anywhere you'd have heard of."

"I've counted six different EPs on this shelf." Steve looks awkward, but pleased that Bucky has noticed. "Would you play me one?"

Steve shrugs and goes over to his bedside table, where he fiddles with his ipod dock for a minute. "Come on," he says, throwing back the covers. "Let's get in. It'll probably put you to sleep anyway."

Bucky assumes he's joking, but as soon as the music starts, he realizes it was fair warning. It's a really soft, slow track, and he might find it boring otherwise, but lying on his back, surrounded by Steve's smell and the heat of his body, it makes him feel safe and secure. Peggy's voice leads: a sweet, lullaby soprano, while Steve's voice supports her with odd, surprising harmonies. Bucky feels like he's wrapped up in cotton candy, and he thinks he feels Steve stroke his hair, but he might have imagined it.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Bucky is woken by the smell of pancakes and coffee, and the sound of Steve playing some classical music on the piano. It's not a bad way to wake up, even if the pancake smell is agonizing. He gets out of bed and pulls his shirt on over his underwear. A glance at the clock tells him it's almost ten, which explains why he feels so well rested for a change. Bucky follows the sounds and smells downstairs, where Steve appears to have switched to Bruce Springsteen, while Peggy clatters about in the kitchen.

"Morning," Steve says cheerily, abandoning the music. "I was just about to fetch you."

"Yeah, sorry for overstaying my welcome."

"Yeah, that's not a thing."

Bucky yawns and rubs his hand over his face. "Thanks for letting me stay though, I really needed that sleep."

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving, but I don't-"

"They're vegan," Steve says, making a face. "Peggy remembered."

Bucky groans. "Peggy, I could kiss you!" he calls to the other room.

"I should bloody well hope so!" she shouts back. "Come on then if you're coming!"

Steve gestures. "She just means for breakfast, don't worry. After you, roomie."

It strikes Bucky that he should have realized before that Peggy is going to have a field day with this. 

"Bucky, sweetie," she says, grinning at him when he walks in. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead. You're like some kind of insomnia blanket," he says, turning to Steve, who shrugs.

"I try."

"Steve was worried you'd noticed that he woke up dry-humping you."

Steve squawks in protest. "I didn't say that! Bucky, don't -"

"It's okay," Bucky says, laughing and holding his hand up to halt Steve's panic. "I think I'm getting the hang of Peggy's sense of humor."

Both Peggy and Steve look surprised. "Alright," she says, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of him. "I'm impressed too."

Bucky stares down at them and groans. "Peggy, thank you, this looks beautiful." He digs in without waiting to be told. The pancakes are so light and fluffy, he almost wouldn't believe they're vegan if Peggy hadn't made them. They taste of citrus and vanilla, and she's covered them with strawberries and soya yoghurt. It might be the best thing he's eaten in months, and he tells her so just to see the pleased expression on her face. He sort of wishes he never had to go home; his house seems so dark and bare next to this.

"What are your plans?" Steve asks with a mouthful of pancake.

"What, today or for the next five years?"

"Both."

"Well, five years, my plans don't go much further than a real job and a new tattoo. As for today, I guess I should start doing something about that dump across the street."

Steve smiles at him, strawberry juice staining the corner of his mouth red, and nudges Bucky under the table with his knee. "Need some help?" 

Bucky frowns. "No, it's okay-"

"Not because of your arm," Steve says quickly, and Peggy puts her face in her hand, "just - y'no, I'd like to help."

It's so sweet and unexpected, Bucky can't help but smile. He really does need to learn to let people be nice to him occasionally. "Actually, some company would be really nice."

 

 

On the first day, Steve and Peggy come over armed with about a year's supply of cleaning products, and between the three of them they tackle the entire house. While Steve and Peggy dust, scrub walls and wax floorboards, Bucky cleans and polishes all the downstairs windows and cleans out every inch of the kitchen. It's just as well his cupboards are still almost empty, because it means he barely has to do any musical pots and pans, moving stuff around to clean behind or underneath it. At lunchtime they order takeout, and they all squish up on the battered old couch Bucky inherited with the house. 

"You need some furniture," Peggy says, glancing around at the bare room. 

"I made a list," Bucky says defensively, because he knows she's right. There's the couch, an old TV on a crate, and a lamp from his mom. It's pathetic. 

Peggy and Steve look at each other across him, and he gets the unsettling feeling of Things Being Decided For Him. "Mustard Tree," they say together, like some freaky psychic twins. 

"Uh, Mustard Tree?"

Steve grins at him. "It's a charity place nearby. They get a lot of ex-sale and clearance furniture donated from stores and stuff. The store funds a homeless shelter."

"A friend of ours works there," Peggy explains. "We decorated half our house from that place."

"It's not far, but they have a van so they'll deliver stuff for you." Bucky just shrugs, gives them a defeated smile and puts more tofu in his mouth. "Awesome!" Steve says loudly. "We'll go after lunch."

Steve and Peggy seem determined to get him at least a decent couch and a table, but Bucky's main mission is a bed. That said, he doesn't really want some crappy second hand thing that's gonna creak every time he moves, and fall apart if he has too much fun. _Cross that bridge when you actually meet someone_ , he thinks, because it's that or think about how bad he wants to screw Steve until the bed breaks. It all goes out of his head though, as soon as they walk into the store, and Bucky sees a huge, wrecked-looking four poster. 

"I need that," he says, without even thinking about it. Peggy and Steve look at him curiously, and he points to the bed. "That."

He goes over to it and reaches out to touch one of the posts. There's a label that says it's solid English oak, and came out of a house clearance nearby. The wood feels good under his fingertips, and he traces one of the carvings with his thumb.

"Are you serious?" Steve asks, coming up behind him. 

His voice makes Bucky smile; the affection there and the certainty that, yeah, Bucky really is going to buy a ridiculous bed that looks like it came out of an English castle. "It's nice, right?"

Steve cackles with laughter. "It's insane, how are you even gonna get it up the stairs?"

"I'm pretty sure it comes apart," Bucky says, although he's not a hundred per cent sure on that. Lucky thing he knows a carpenter. 

"You could fit four people on that thing."

"Only need room for two." Bucky winks at him. "Maybe three."

The look Steve gives him is warm and full of promise. "Got anyone in mind?"

 _Stop it, stop it right now_ , Bucky tells himself, because he can still remember the feeling of curling up next to Steve and breathing in the scent of his hair, and they really need to _just be friends_. "I might," is all he says, looking Steve in the eye. Oh man, he really needs to stop.

They're saved by Peggy, who struts over and interrupts loudly, "I got you a good deal, if you want it. They can bring it over in a couple of days. Also if you buy anything else I can probably wrangle you a bigger discount." She looks pleased with herself, but she also looks at Bucky like she knows something he doesn't. He leans over and kisses her cheek. 

"You're the best, thanks."

"Don't thank me until you see the bill."

Steve laughs, and just gives Bucky a shrug, like, _what did you expect?_

"Come on," Bucky says, rolling his eyes. "My house still needs stuff. Let's get looking."

They end up coming away with some shelves, a coffee table and a huge armchair. Bucky definitely didn't buy it because he was thinking about how well he and Steve would fit in it together, because if he had then he'd never be able to sit in it without thinking exactly that thought and that would be awkward. Right. Steve and Peggy both want to keep looking, and Bucky still needs to find a mattress to fit his Ridiculous Princess Bed, as they've taken to calling it, but he figures that can wait.

Next stop is coffee. Bucky asks if they can go to the vegan place because the barista is really cute, but he only lasts five seconds under Steve's horrified glare before he bursts out laughing, and Steve starts berating Peggy loudly for revealing all of his deep dark secrets.

"Dude," Bucky says, grinning. "If those are your darkest secrets, you have nothing to worry about."

"You're such an ass."

"I got the impression you liked that."

Steve looks at him, before slowly, deliberately lowering his eyes down to Bucky's pants. He cranes his neck around, as if he's trying to get a good look, and Bucky laughs and shoves him gently. "You're about the worst flirt I've ever met."

"At least you knew I was flirting."

Peggy groans. "You two are utterly hopeless," she says loudly. "I need a lot more caffeine in my system if this is what I'm going to have to deal with." She turns on her heel and marches off without them, and Steve and Bucky just shrug at each other before following. 

Over coffee they talk about worst dates, because now that they've set him off, Steve apparently cannot stop ranting about the vegan barista (who, fortunately, no longer works there). He tells them about being taken to a show where the guy's _ex_ was performing, almost getting trampled in a mosh pit, and spending the rest of the night in the ER on his own because vegan barista had an early start. 

"Why did you even date him?" Bucky asks, sipping his coffee.

Peggy looks at him over the rim of her cup. "He had a huge dick."

"Shut up!" Steve hisses.

"I used to hear them through the wall, it was like a battering ram."

Steve slides down in his chair, attempting to disappear under the table. "Oh god."

Bucky snorts. "And your defenses just wouldn't hold."

"Back up, Barnes," Steve mutters, glaring sidelong at him. "Back right the fuck up."

"Okay," Peggy says in what, for her, passes for a diplomatic tone. "Bucky, your turn."

He frowns and scratches his cheek. "Uhh, tricky."

"What, your dates are so perfect?"

Bucky stifles a laugh at Steve's sulky tone. "What, you think it was so easy getting back into dating with one arm?"

"Hey, I didn't mean-" Steve starts, sitting up in his chair.

"He's fucking with you, Steve."

Steve blinks, then looks at Peggy, who nods. He looks at Bucky, who also nods. "Fuck you guys," he murmurs, picking up his hot chocolate and licking some of the cream off the top. 

"So, my worst date," Bucky continues, warming to his audience, "is probably senior prom. Does prom count?"

"If it's bad enough," Peggy says, setting down her drink with a delicate movement. 

Bucky grimaces. "Believe me, it's pretty bad." He sighs and stretches in his chair. "So, I had a girlfriend but it wasn't really working out, and I was kinda screwing around with a guy on my team - on the swim team, I mean - but I'd said I'd take this girl to prom, so I did."

"Can't imagine where this is going," Steve says slyly, looking interested again. He swipes some cream off his drink with his forefinger, and sticks it in his mouth. Bucky watches his cheeks hollow as he sucks, and he swallows to clear his throat.

"Uh, yeah. Well we went, we danced, we drank the spiked punch-" Peggy interrupts him with a laugh, but she doesn't say anything so he carries on. "Then she said she wanted to do it in my dad's car." He blushes a little. "I also maybe told her I was still a virgin when it wasn't strictly true."

"This gets better and better," Peggy says, looking over at Steve.

"Yeah well, we had a _Grease_ thing going on. I was a punk rocker, she was a good little choir girl."

"I bet you were in the choir too."

Bucky laughs and shoots Peggy with a finger gun. "How else d'you think we met?"

Steve groans. "You are officially my teenage wet dream."

"Good to know." Bucky winks at him. 

"You're also his twenty-five year old wet dream, fyi."

"Even better."

Steve throws a teaspoon at Peggy, and Bucky just sits back and waits for them to finish, well aware that he's got a smug look on his face. "Yeah, so we get to the car, we start making out and then it turns out neither of us has a condom."

"Classic."

"Shut up, so I go to look for my friends to borrow one, and the only person I can find is Derek. From the swim team."

Peggy claps her hands and cackles loudly. "You're such a liar, this is the best date _ever_."

"So, naturally, he wanted to know why I needed condoms, and when he found out I was going all the way with Stephanie, he _flipped out_." Bucky sighs and examines his fingernails. "We ended up having sex in the locker rooms while she was still waiting outside-"

"Yeah, seriously," Steve says, looking disappointed, "this is the best date ever."

"- _until_ ," Bucky continues, "we got _caught_ having sex by the principal, dragged through the prom half naked, and thrown out into the car park right where Stephanie was waiting for me."

"Oh, wow."

"You're making it up."

"Nope. Whole school found out I was into guys, Stephanie dumped me and posted loads of shit about me online, and I ended up switching to a college out of state while all my friends stayed in New York."

"Wait, you grew up in New York?"

Bucky just gives Steve a _look_. "What, the accent didn't give it away?"

"Where did you live?"

"Not far, still Brooklyn. That's why I came back."

Steve just looks at him. "You're shitting me, Bucky. I went to that school. I remember that happening!"

Bucky squints at him. "No fuckin' way. I'd have remembered you."

"Nah, you wouldn't. I was sick a lot, and when I was there I spent all my time in the art classroom." He grins. "I didn't mix with punkass jocks, not even the closeted ones."

"Holy shit," Bucky murmurs, just staring at him. "I wish you would've."

"I was a junior anyway, you wouldn't have given me the time of day."

"I dunno, were you this cute back then?" he asks, before his brain has time to filter. 

Peggy clears her throat. "He absolutely was not."

"Peggy!" Steve squawks indignantly. "I'm allowed to say that, not you!"

"What? I've seen your yearbook photos, you were a little dweeb." She reaches out and pats his arm. "If it makes you feel better, you were cute by the time you got to college. Well, by the time you were a sophomore anyway."

Steve puts his head in his hands. "Jeez, I have the worst friends."

Bucky smiles and downs the dregs of his coffee. "Hey, Peggy?"

"Mm?"

"How much time do you spend listening to Steve having sex?"

Steve's head hits the table with a rattle of cutlery.

 

 

Bucky heads over the next day with a tray of brownies to replace the ones the dog ruined, and Steve takes an hour off his work to accompany him to the hardware store for paint and brushes. He hasn't really thought hard about what color he's gonna paint any of the rooms or how he's gonna furnish them beyond _giant princess bed_ and armchair for Steve to snuggle in, but all the walls need a base coat if nothing else, and it gives him something to be getting on with. Steve is quieter than the previous two days, and he admits that he spent most of the night working to catch up on a project, which makes Bucky feel super guilty for not only eating up his whole day yesterday, but today as well. 

"I'm sorry to drag you away, I can find it myself."

"Nah, man, I need a break anyway."

"What are you working on?"

Steve flashes him a wan smile. "Honestly, I'm sick of thinking about it. It's this big rebrand for a private school nearby. I didn't really wanna take it but Peggy talked me into it." He shrugs. "And as capitalist clusterfucks go, it's not the worst. Better a school than some life-destroying megacorp."

"Must make it difficult to find work."

"Less than you'd think." Steve rubs at his shoulder as he walks, no doubt the stress from drawing for too long. "I mean, sure I have to pick up other work wherever I can, but we stay afloat."

"So what do you normally work on?"

"Oh, you know. As much illustration as I can. I do some graphics, but I way prefer the other stuff. Peggy takes a lot of the graphic design work off my hands when she can, we've got a pretty similar style, so nobody ever cares-" Steve breaks off to stifle a yawn, then goes back to rubbing his shoulder. "Augh, sorry," he mumbles through his yawn. "She's real wrapped up in her own stuff at the moment though."

"She makes clothes, right?"

"Yeah, she does a lot of bespoke costumes and period stuff. And she's got this amazing etsy page with a friend, you should check it out."

"Mm, I will." Bucky leaves it just long enough for the conversation to fall into a lull before he asks. "Hey, you want me to take a look at your shoulder?"

Steve grins. "If you want me to take my shirt off for you, you only need to ask."

"Come here," Bucky says, leaving that one _well_ alone, and reaching out for him. He pulls Steve over to a little café at the side of the street where some chairs and tables are set out. He pulls a chair out and gestures to it. "Sit."

"Uh."

"Chest to the seat back. Come on."

Steve frowns curiously, but he does as he's told, and Bucky leans over him. He places his palm over the top of Steve's shoulder. "Just relax," he says gently, and feels the shoulder drop an inch. He braces against Steve's left with his elbow, while he presses his thumb into the muscles of the right shoulder, moving his hand down to cup Steve's scapula, feeling the muscles around it. 

"Uh, Bucky?"

"Where does it hurt most?" he asks, but just then he digs his thumb in and Steve hisses and twists against him. "Never mind, I got it. Try and relax, okay?" He picks up Steve's elbow and rotates his shoulder a few times, forward and then back, then pushes the heel of his hand into the knotted bunch of muscles. He can feel Steve trying to relax, going limp in the chair. Bucky slides his left arm around Steve's chest and pulls him back onto his hand, using his weight to work his knuckles and the heel of his hand into the tight, knotted bunch of his shoulder. 

Steve groans and leans back into him, then lets out a little gasp as something shifts slightly, and Bucky releases him. "That better?"

Steve rolls his shoulder, angling his neck and lifting his arm up over his head. "Shit," he says, turning to Bucky as his mouth curls up in a smile. "That's incredible, thanks!" He gets up, and gives the curious café owner a quick wave through the door. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"College," Bucky says, shoving his hand in his pocket. "I'm a trained physical therapist."

"You're kidding."

"I mean, I can't really practise with this," he says, raising his left arm. "But it comes in handy."

Steve groans. "Yeah, you are now on constant call, I hope that's okay."

Bucky grins and ducks his head to hide just how dorky he must look. Because, yeah, it really is.

They pick up a few tins of paint in neutral colors, and Steve goes looking for some paint supplies for himself while Bucky browses the aisles, not really looking for anything in particular. He finds himself in the aisle with light fittings, and decides it's probably a good idea to think about getting some. At the moment most of his rooms just have bare bulbs, or ancient fixtures that are falling apart. He pushes his cart along the aisle and stares at the rows and rows of _stuff_. He should probably go and look for something antique, something that fits with the rest of the house maybe, but he's kind of sick of the past. He's already painting everything, and he has a vague notion of asking Steve to design murals for some of the walls, so a few modern light fittings aren't going to destroy the whole look or anything. He picks up a few different ones and examines them, trying to decide how they'll look in his house, and whether he even cares. 

He throws a few in the cart and turns the corner, only to stop in his tracks when he hears raised voices in the next aisle. It sounds like a couple arguing, and for a second he wonders if he should intervene, but a quick peek down the aisle convinces him it's not likely to escalate to violence; they're just sniping at each other. 

Bucky's about to turn and hurry away when he realizes that he knows the couple. The woman has her back to him, but she turns her head and he recognizes his friend Maria from college. Her hair is very different and she's practically shouting, but it's definitely her. And suddenly Bucky realizes why Steve's ex-boyfriend at the party seemed so familiar. It's Howard _Stark_ , aka Maria's husband. Bucky feels anger bubble up inside him, but it's not his place to intervene, and he forces himself to walk away without saying anything to them. They're too wrapped up in their fight to notice him anyway. 

He runs into Steve again, looking at paintbrushes and rollers. "Hey," Bucky says, rolling up beside him. Steve turns wordlessly and dumps an armful of stuff into the cart. "Find what you needed?"

Steve shrugs. "Kinda. You?" Bucky bites his lip. He feels like he should probably tell Steve that Howard is here, but he's not sure what it would achieve. "Oh, Bucky," Steve says, before he can decide, turning to look up into his eyes. "Um, this is kinda embarrassing. You remember that party, where you scared off my ex-boyfriend?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Just ran into him," Steve says, shifting on the spot and adjusting his glasses needlessly. "I uh. I realized I never thanked you for that. I know I was an ass, and you were just trying to help. Peggy told me after that you wanted to help."

Bucky just shakes his head quickly. "Forget about it. It wasn't any of my business."

"Maybe not, but I'm still grateful."

"Alright then, you're welcome."

Steve laughs and squeezes Bucky's left arm with his fingers. "Come on, let's get out of here and get something to eat. 

 

 

The Ridiculous Princess bed arrives the next day, shortly followed by Dugan and Jones. They've just finished building a set on Broadway so they have some time to spare, and they've come to help him shift the heavy stuff, and in Dugan's case, to work some carpentry magic on the bed. He talks Bucky through it; the old evidence of woodworm, though the wood seems sound underneath; the places where it's been repaired over the decades; the points he can attach hooks for new drapes, and the places on the posts he can attach hooks for other purposes. Dugan says this with a totally deadpan expression, not a hint of judgment or a suggestion that he's going to tell anyone about it. Sometimes, Bucky really loves his friends. Even if they make fun of him for sleeping on a mattress on the floor and being in love with his neighbor. Which, he totally isn't, because he's only known Steve for two and a half weeks and that would be creepy. 

He leaves Dugan to it and goes downstairs to make tea, only to have Jones immediately start chewing him out for buying the wrong kind of paint, or something. He had thought that getting actual trained decorators over for some advice would be a good idea, but now he's starting to rethink it. 

"What the hell's wrong with my paint?" he asks, and immediately regrets it as Jones launches into an intricate explanation of using the right kind of paint in old houses and toxins and damaging the fittings and eventually Bucky just stops listening and goes to make tea. He almost cries with relief when someone hammers on the door, because it has to be Steve or Peggy who don't know that he just had the doorbell fixed this morning and therefore will go for knocking instead. 

"I am a million kinds of glad to see you right now," he says when he wrenches the door open and finds Steve standing on the steps in only a pair of paint-splattered dungarees and sandals. He isn't wearing a shirt underneath, and Bucky tries not to look too hard at Steve's tiny pink nipples peeking out from behind the denim. 

"I don't hear that nearly enough," Steve says, grinning. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, probably, but don't be surprised if I ask you to help me move some bodies later."

"I'm all over that."

It's not really funny but it makes Bucky laugh. They just kind of stare at each other for a minute with identical smiles, then Bucky remembers his manners and gestures inside. "You wanna come in? I'm just making tea."

Steve bites his lip and looks like he's gonna say no, but then he just sighs and that smiles comes out again. "Yeah, why not, just for a minute." He steps inside and kicks his sandals off while Bucky closes the door behind him. "I just came to bring you something." Steve holds out his hand, clutching a CD in a blank case. "I thought you could listen to it while you're painting."

"You made me a mixtape?" Bucky asks, taking it reverently. "Shit, we're fourteen, aren't we?"

"Yeah, shut up. I just, I feel bad I can't help out but I have too much work this week. I still wanted to keep you company, y'no?"

Oh man, Bucky knows, and it gets him right in the chest. He wants so badly to pull Steve into a hug, but Steve looks tired and turned in on himself and Bucky gets the idea he'd be uncomfortable. So instead he just claps Steve on the shoulder and hopes his smile communicates even half of how much he appreciates this.

"Come on," he says, nudging Steve towards the den. "You're in for a treat."

But to his disappointment, and also his utter confoundment, it turns out that Steve is already intimately acquainted with the Commandos, and both Jones and Dugan are delighted to see him.

"Yo, Cap!" Dugan shouts, clattering down the stairs and wiping his hands on a rag. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Dum Dum!" Steve shouts, and okay, how the fuck does he know Dugan's nickname? That's a strictly Commandos thing. Steve laughs as he finds himself swept up in a big bear hug. "I live across the street, idiot!"

"Wait," Bucky says. "What?"

"This little guy did our album covers," Dugan says, shaking his head at Bucky. "Which you'd know if you'd bothered to show up to the launch party."

"Knock it off, dumbass," Jones says, with a nod at Bucky, because they're all well aware of why he didn't show up. 

Steve, however, is unaware of the tension and he just laughs. "They invited me to your surprise housewarming, you didn't wonder why we were here?"

Bucky shakes his head. First the school thing, and now this? Bucky really feels like kicking the universe for not introducing him to Steve ten years earlier. "I figured they just invited the whole street."

"What, and admit all the riff-raff?" Jones says in a perfect imitation of Falsworth. 

They all laugh, and Bucky excuses himself to the kitchen, because this is all too fucking weird to deal with. Steve follows as he's setting out a bunch of mismatched cups. "You okay?"

"Of course," Bucky says, throwing him the quirk of a smile. "So how come they call you Cap?"

Steve blushes. "Oh, it's pretty stupid. I was wearing a star spangled t-shirt when we first met, and they've called me Captain America ever since."

"Cute."

"Yeah, if by cute you mean mildly humiliating."

Bucky barks a laugh. "That's my friends alright."

"Mm, that Steve Rogers, American as apple pie."

Steve's voice has a twist of bitterness, and Bucky glances over at him between pouring. "Steve, you're the epitomy of the American Dream."

"Yeah, sure I am. I bet America would be delighted to be represented by a queer kid from Brooklyn who hates capitalism, Starbucks and guns, and not to mention he's 5'5 in dress shoes and disabled."

"Steve, none of that shit is the shit that matters. I mean, I'm all on board with the queer, anti-capitalist stuff obviously, but the rest?" He sighs and puts the kettle down. "I wish you could see what I see. You grew up in a poor neighborhood, and now you live where you want, you do what you want, not to mention you're talented as all hell and beautiful to boot."

Bucky really needs to work on that brain filtering thing. He's usually so good at it. He looks away quickly, thankful for the excuse of having boiling hot water to worry about. 

"Thanks, Buck," Steve says quietly. The nickname tugs at him, and he makes himself look back at Steve, at the soft, happy expression on his face. He laughs and puts the kettle down so he can pull Steve into a hug after all, just a brief squeeze because if he lets himself linger, he will literally never want to let go. 

"You're welcome, you sap. Now help me with these drinks, yeah?"

They end up chatting for almost two hours, Bucky and the Commandos on the crappy couch while Steve climbs into the new armchair and curls up like a cat. Just as Bucky had expected, he looks right at home there, and he only wishes he could climb up there too and tangle himself up in Steve's skinny legs. He keeps finding his eyes drawn to Steve's pink toes, peeking out from under a throw pillow, and he has a really strong urge to put them in his mouth. Eventually Steve drags himself to the door, begging off because of his deadlines, and Bucky waves him goodbye from the steps. Then he turns around to find Dugan and Jones staring at him expectantly, arms folded like parents waiting to hear the excuse.

"What."

"You guys are screwing, right?"

Bucky shrugs, aiming for dismissive though his heart is racing, and he can feel the grin leaching from his face. "We're just friends. And he's my _neighbor_."

"So?" Jones is looking at him like there might be something wrong with him. Maybe there is. 

"I don't want to sleep with him."

Dugan laughs so hard at that, Bucky thinks he might hurt himself, but that's probably too much to hope for. "Bucky," he says, when he's got his breath back. "Go over there right now and ask him out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Jones throws his hands up with a sigh. "Hey, we tried."

"You're supposed to be helping me decorate, not getting me laid."

"You need all the help you can get."

Bucky scowls at them. "Do not."

"Do too."

"I could totally sleep with Steve if I wanted to _but I am choosing not to_." Jones and Dugan exchange a look, then they just shrug. 

"Fair enough."

And that, weirdly, is that. And if Bucky is glad that his friends are gonna shut the fuck up and respect his life choices, he's also vaguely disappointed that nobody's gonna just lock him and Steve in a room until they have no choice but fuck for escape. He goes to make more tea for everyone and resolutely does not think about putting Steve's toes in his mouth. 

 

 

He spends two or three days solidly decorating. On the third, Steve shows up with a big bag of chips and a box of vegan cocoa from Peggy's secret supply and offers to help. He's wearing his painting clothes; the paint-spattered dungarees again, over a star spangled t-shirt this time, presumably the one he mentioned the Commandos seeing him in. Bucky wonders if that was when he stopped wearing it in public. It's covered in smears of oil and acrylic now, and has a tear near the left shoulder that reveals a patch of pale, freckled skin if Bucky looks too closely. He tries not to. 

Steve makes cocoa for them both, and they spend a couple of hours painting and dancing to classic rock on the local radio station. Bucky is surprised and delighted to find that Steve has a secret thing for Rush and Boston, and that he watched _Supernatural_ obsessively for the music (and, he admits later, for Castiel whom he kind of has a secret thing for too). He's not a huge fan of Journey, but that's okay, because neither is Bucky. Another DJ takes over and plays a lot of Neil Young, and Bucky catches Steve staring at him while he's rolling paint onto the wall of the living room, and realizes he's been singing along. He didn't even realize he was doing it; he grew up in a Neil Young house, and he knows the words as well as lullabies.

"What?" he asks, growing uncomfortable when Steve keeps staring.

"You can sing."

"Oh, yeah, kinda."

Steve frowns. "No, Bucky, you can sing really well." He looks vaguely annoyed, like Bucky should've mentioned this before. 

"Well, I used to be in a band."

"Seriously? What band?"

Bucky quirks his mouth, a little embarrassed. "Uh, the Commandos. I was actually the second member."

"Oh, shit." He sees Steve's eyes flick to his left arm, and he wishes that didn't bother him. "Bucky, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Forget it," he says with a shrug, although he does go and change the radio station. 

They make spare, awkward conversation after that, and he still keeps catching Steve looking over at him, but neither of them really know what to say and so they don't. When they break for lunch, Bucky checks his phone and finds half a dozen messages from Morita and Dugan inviting him to a gig. 

"Ah, shit, those fuckers," he mutters, smiling to himself.

"What'd they do now?" Steve says with laughter in his voice. Bucky kinda likes that Steve knew who he meant without asking. 

"They're playing a secret gig in the Village tonight for the start of their tour." He flicks his hair out of his eyes and decides to offer Steve an olive branch. "You wanna be my plus one? I know it's not really your thing, but-"

Steve doesn't hesitate. "I'd love to."

"You know they're gonna tease us, right?" Bucky asks, glancing down at his phone where Dugan's last message reads _bring Cap and hold his damn hand or else_. Morita's last message read _be there or lose the other one_. He has such charming friends.

"Why are they gonna tease us?" Steve asks, all wide-eyed innocent.

Bucky looks at him. Really looks, the way he's been trying not to let himself. Steve has paint smeared across his right cheek, and he's obviously been in the sun the past couple of days because it's brought out the freckles on his nose and cheeks. His eyes are soft and inquisitive, waiting for Bucky to tell him where they stand. But Bucky isn't ready to do this, whatever this is, whether they will or not. He just can't, right now. 

"I can't imagine," he says simply, and turns back to painting. 

All the Commandos have been bullying him all week, which he thinks might be their subtle way of driving him into Steve's arms. He's just grateful they're better musicians than matchmakers. 

"Hey," Steve says after a few minutes. Bucky's worried he's going to bring up the teasing situation again, but Steve just gives him a dorky smile and says, "What should I wear to a punk gig?"

Bucky eyes him up. "Whatever you like," he says dismissively. "Either way you'll look like a dweeb."

"Bastard!" Steve cackles, throwing down his paint roller and coming in with his devilishly pointy little fingers to jab Bucky in the ribs. 

"No fair!" Bucky shouts between gasps of laughter as he tries helplessly to fend Steve off. "One arm, remember?"

Steve relents for a second and rolls his eyes. "You can't use that excuse for everything."

"Try me."

Steve shrugs and holds his hands up in surrender, which is perfect, because it gives Bucky the perfect opening to tickle him back. 

"You fucker!" Steve shouts, cackling with laughter again. They wrestle onto the couch, and Bucky's glad he thought to cover it with a dust sheet before remembering it's old and shitty and it really doesn't matter. He lands on his back with Steve on top of him. It would probably be romantic, or one hell of a turn on, except Steve digs a knee into his chest and uses it to pin him down so he can return the attack viciously.

"Okay, okay!" Bucky gasps out. "I surrender! Fuck!"

Steve sits back and folds his arms, surveying Bucky with a smug _job well done_ kind of expression. He's an idiot, and Bucky loves it. 

They break up the decorating after a couple more hours so that Steve can get some work in before the gig, and Bucky promises to be on his doorstep at seven thirty. He's already vaguely regretting inviting Steve, only because he'll stick out like a sore thumb and because the Commandos have never mastered the art of keeping their opinions to themselves. Except Jones, who is goddamn fucking saint compared to the rest. 

As it turns out, Steve fits in better than Bucky. The bar isn't too busy and the guest list is fairly small, so it feels intimate and friendly from the moment they walk in. Bucky gives his name and it turns out Steve is already on there too.

"But you're my plus one," Bucky says, frowning. "I guess they knew I'd invite you."

Steve looks sheepish. "Actually they texted me too, in case you didn't."

Rolling his eyes skyward, Bucky sighs. "You mean I could've brought an actual _date_? One who'll put out?"

"Hey!" Steve punches his shoulder. "I'd put out if you asked nicely, you punkass moron."

Laughing, Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's shoulders, exaggerating the gesture in the hope it'll come off as fraternal and platonic, and not in any way make it obvious he's thinking about Steve putting out. He really is so screwed. Steve buys them both soft drinks and they find a table where they can chat (or, at least, yell companionably in each other's ear) while the support acts play. Steve struggles to hear him with the noise level, so eventually Bucky pulls out his phone and types a message on it for Steve to read. 

_Havin fun?_

Steve grins and types a reply on his own phone. 

_I came for you not the music._

_Doesnt answer my q?_

_Jackass_

_Yup_

There's a pause, while Steve looks round the room thoughtfully, then he reaches for his phone again. 

_You date any of them?_

Bucky raises his eyebrows.

_HC?_

Steve nods, and Bucky sighs.

_Not really. Hookups in college_

_Who???_

Bucky laughs and nudges him with his shoulder.

_Guess_

_k later_

Steve finishes his drink and waves his empty glass at Bucky with a question in his eyes. Bucky nods and gets to his feet. 

"I'll get this one!" he yells, taking Steve's empty glass. There's a short wait at the bar, and Bucky relaxes his elbow on it and turns to watch the band while he waits. He's barely listened to a single song so far, too focused on every movement Steve makes; the way he drums his fingers on every surface in time to the music; the way the UV lights make his freckles stand out stark against his skin; the sweat that makes his skin shiny in the flashes of stage light. He glances over at Steve, and spots him talking to somebody. A guy somebody. Bucky forces down the envy that rises in his belly. He's not dating Steve, and he's made it clear he doesn't want to. He's got no right to interfere.

Eventually he gets his drinks as the second support wrap up their set, and heads back over to Steve. He's planning to just leave the drink and then go into the crowd to mingle, but Steve's new friend has already gone. 

"Making friends already?" he asks, in the relative quiet now that the band is done.

"You saw that, huh?" Steve asks, looking at him indulgently. 

"Get his number?"

Steve shrugs. "I told him I wasn't interested."

"How come? He was cute."

"I'm just not interested," Steve says simply, and reaches over to take his drink from Bucky. "Thanks."

Bucky sits down and tries to think of something to say. It feels really important that he says the right thing now, but he isn't sure what that is. He's grateful when Steve starts chatting to him about the bands instead, but he still feels strangely guilty. 

The Howling Commandos take the stage at last, and he and Steve cheer as loud as anyone while the band take their places. Falsworth spots Bucky in the crowd and they salute each other, laughing. Then Falsworth spots Steve too, and he makes an obscene gesture that Bucky _prays_ Steve didn't notice. 

They start playing, beginning with a newer song before turning to an old favourite. It feels odd, but it's nice. It's not that he's exactly avoided listening to them but there's always been an excuse not to hit their gigs as often as he used to, hardly at all really, and even though they begged him to keep writing with them, he took a step back after the accident. It's nice hearing where they've gone, really _listening_ for once. 

Steve nudges his arm, and Bucky realizes he's being offered another message on Steve's phone.

_You wanna dance?_

_Call that dancing?_ Bucky writes back, and they grin at each other. _Happy here_

_Me too_

They play half a dozen songs from the new album, the one they're launching with the tour. It's a move from the old stuff but Bucky likes it, it suits them, and he can't help a smile. It feels like they're growing up. His heart swells with pride. 

Steve reaches out and puts his hand over Bucky's, and only then does he realize that he's tapping away on his thigh with his fingertips, measuring out the guitar riff without thinking. He turns his hand and lets his fingers interlock with Steve's, and gets a big, sunshine smile in return. Steve looks down and types something on his phone one handed. 

_They rock_

Bucky nods at him, the delight showing on his face. Steve types again.

_Wish you were up there?_

Bucky shakes his head, but his answer has more nuance than he can communicate without words, so he releases Steve's hand and pulls his phone out.

_Not my thing anymore. Its about them_

_They dont see it that way_

_Theyre idiots_

_Takes one to know_

Bucky responds to that by sticking his tongue out at Steve, who shakes his head warningly. 

_Do that again and see what happens_ , Steve writes.

Okay, Bucky really isn't as stupid as he looks sometimes. He _knows_ he could lean over now and kiss Steve, and Steve would almost certainly not object, but it doesn't feel right. Sure he _wants_ it but Bucky wants a lot of things he can't, or shouldn't, just take. 

_Not scared of you Rogers_

Steve grins. _You should be_

Thing is, Bucky really thinks he might be. Every second he spends with Steve just assures him that Steve is amazing, and Bucky literally never wants to stop being his friend. Steve's hand is still resting on Bucky's thigh, and Bucky puts his phone away so he can cover it with his own, just holding it there, Steve's hot palm pressed against his thigh. It's oddly not sexual (okay, not _that_ sexual), more comforting, and that is something Bucky is more than willing to accept. 

When the Commandos come to the end of their set, Dugan and Falsworth have a muttered exchange away from the mics, and then Dugan comes back to the front of the stage and peers into the crowd. Falsworth puts a hand on his shoulder and points. Right at Bucky.

"Ladies and gents and others," Dugan says, wielding his guitar like a club. "Unfortunately we've come to the end, although not quite the bitter end-" He's interrupted by a series of groans and booing, "-but as this is a special night, on a very special tour, we'd like to try and give you all a little special something as a thank you for coming tonight."

Someone in the crowd, predictably shouts _Blowjobs!_ but Dugan just shrugs and gestures towards the source of the voice. 

"This kind gentleman will be waiting at the door as you leave. Don't forget to tip."

Laughter follows, and he waits for it to calm before he goes on, but Bucky doesn't laugh. He's barely aware of what's being said, because they're planning something and he doesn't like it and yet he can't seem to move. Steve shakes his arm. "Bucky," he says loudly. "Hey, Bucky?"

Dugan continues. "Without further ado, if he'll consent to it, we'd like to invite a friend of ours to come up from the crowd and perform one last song with us."

Bucky's stomach feels like ice. 

"Bucky?" Dugan says, smiling encouragingly. "You out there, buddy?"

There are a few ragged cheers: obviously a few fans in the room who remember him, but Bucky can't move. He looks down, at his hand gripping Steve's convulsively in his lap. It must be hurting Steve, he's holding on so tight, and he forces himself to let go.

"Come on, Bucky!" Falsworth shouts into his mic, and the cheer is taken up by some of the crowd.

"Bucky," Steve says, urgently, but Bucky turns away. He climbs off his stool and starts walking to the exit. The crowd seems to form a fucking wall between him and the door and he ends up shoving more than one person out of the way. He's vaguely aware of the Commandos speaking again on stage, making excuses, but he can't listen anymore. He slams through the double doors and steps into the cool night, chest heaving. The sidewalk is empty, and he walks over to the curb and sits. His head is spinning and he feels like he can't breathe right. He puts his head in his hand. 

"Bucky," says a voice behind him. Steve's voice. Then warmth beside him, a gentle hand touching his shoulders. "Just relax," Steve mutters. "It's okay, I'm here, just relax. Just keep breathing. You can do it, nice and slow, it's okay."

Steve's voice calms him, and he feels his breathing slowly even out to match the gentle rhythm Steve circles on his shoulder blades with the flat of his palm. "It's okay, Bucky," Steve says again, and leans in to kiss his temple through his sweaty hair. "You're okay."

Bucky turns into him, pushing his face into Steve's chest and knotting his fingers up in Steve's shirt. "Shhh," Steve whispers, stroking his fingers through Bucky's hair. "It's okay, I gotcha."

Bucky takes a deep, steadying breath. He's not sure if he feels like crying, but he sure as hell isn't gonna do it here in the middle of the sidewalk. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Bucky shakes his head. "Okay, let's go get a coffee. I know a good diner nearby." Bucky nods, but then he frowns. "Wait," he says, as Steve starts to get up. "I should say goodbye to them." 

"We'll come back for the party," Steve says with a careless smile. "They'll understand." 

Bucky relents, and they walk along in a companionable silence. Steve doesn't try to make him talk about it, and Bucky doesn't volunteer anything. Steve does brush his hand against Bucky's as they walk, a clear invitation if he wants it, so the third time he does it, Bucky catches Steve's fingers between his own and links their hands together. 

"You hungry?" 

Bucky shrugs. "I could eat. How vegan friendly is this diner?"

Steve squeezes his hand with a grin, and starts marching him in the direction of the diner. "Vegan enough. Come on."

They find a booth and Steve orders them both decaf black coffee and brings Bucky a menu. 

"So, why'd you quit the band?"

Bucky scowls, but a quick glance at Steve's face tells him that talking about this isn't optional. "Wasn't any point in staying."

"Why not? I mean-" Steve cuts himself off, making an aborted gesture with his hands. He's frustrated, and Bucky can tell he's trying to work out how to show it without upsetting him. "You can still make music, Bucky," he adds, more gently. "I've heard you sing, for one thing."

"It didn't feel right. To stay, I mean."

Steve nods. "How come?"

He likes that Steve doesn't say he understands, although if anyone could understand it would probably be Steve. It almost makes him laugh, despite his discomfort talking about this. He wants to ask if Steve's had training in listening, like he had before he started work at the crisis center, but he doesn't want to break the moment. Either way, Steve always seems to know the right thing to say, and that's pretty funny considering how they first met. 

"I don't know," he says, staring at the menu but not seeing it. "The accident - it made me rethink a lot of things." He glances up and reads the open concern in Steve's eyes. He obviously wants to ask, but Bucky knows he won't, and he's more thankful for that than he can say. Bucky's not quite ready for Steve to see the worst sides of him yet. "I miss music," he says instead. "Fuck, Steve, I really miss it."

"I can relate to that."

Bucky nods and lays the menu flat on the table with his palm on the sticky, laminated surface of it. Steve also lays his hands on the table, not touching, but close enough if Bucky wants to. He doesn't think he's done this much hand-holding in the entire past year of his laugh, and he tells Steve as much with a self-conscious glance up at his face. 

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Steve says with a tilt of his shoulder, and he looks like he genuinely means it. "I'm your friend."

Bucky nods and runs his fingers across the middle of Steve's left palm absently. "I dunno, sometimes I think leaving was the wrong decision." He gives a smile that tastes bitter on his lips. "But hey, I was young and stupid. I didn't wanna be a gimmick, the one-armed guitarist. I didn't wanna give less than I gave before."

"How much did you give after you left?"

Bucky winces. "Ouch."

"I'm sorry," Steve mutters. "But, listen to me, okay?" He folds his hand around Bucky's, and reaches over to touch his chin, urging Bucky to meet his eyes again. "I can't imagine you giving less than a hundred per cent to something you really care about. Not in a million years." He smiles gently. "So I get it, man, if it had to be all or nothing, then maybe it had to be nothing, for a while."

"Of all the people in New York to wind up as my neighbor, I am so fucking glad it was you."

Steve bursts out laughing. "I'm glad you've changed your mind, I know you thought I was an idiot when we first met."

"Well, you were acting like one."

"Point."

Bucky spots the waiter walking over, and he reluctantly lets go of Steve's hand and stares down at the menu again. "You think the falafel is good?"

"The falafel is great," the waiter puts in, smiling at them in a totally non-judgmental and also totally non-sexual way, which Bucky has rarely experienced from guys working in restaurants. It's nice. 

"I'll have that," he says, just as his stomach rumbles to remind him that he's hungry. 

Steve orders French toast, and Bucky looks at his plate wistfully when it arrives. "Man, I really miss eggs. The rest, not so much, but eggs I really miss."

"Just eat eggs, dude," Steve says through a mouthful of chewy bread. "What's so bad about eggs? They're not even fertilized. They're not gonna be chickens."

Bucky smirks. He can't really be bothered to start a whole debate about food ethics and, honestly, he's not even sure he cares that much anymore. It feels kind of wrong to admit it, but sometimes he feels as if he hung onto veganism just because it was something to measure his life by. Something that was the same before and after the accident. "Maybe," is all he says with a shrug. "I'll think about it."

"I make amazing French toast."

He looks so earnest, Bucky can't help but smile at him. "Yeah?"

"Eggs is the one thing I can cook well, so you should really start eating them otherwise I'll never be able to seduce you properly." Steve grins, his big blue eyes shining in the fluorescent light, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, totally fucking irresistible. "Really, any kind of eggs you want. What's your favorite kind?"

Bucky has to think about that one for a while, while Steve throws suggestions at him, but eventually he settles on plain old scrambled eggs and Steve nods sagely. "A fine choice, and I make the best fucking scrambled eggs in Brooklyn."

"Alright, I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"About eggs, or about me seducing you?" 

Bucky raises his eyebrow. "Both."

They're almost done with their food when Bucky gets a very, very apologetic, grovelling phonecall from Dugan. Bucky suspects the others bullied him into calling, but the sentiment is all Dugan's.

"I should've asked first, I'm real sorry, Buck. We were just so excited that you came, we really wanted you to be a part of it."

He sighs and props his phone on his left shoulder so he can rub his temple with two fingers. "No, I overreacted. I - I really appreciate that you guys want to involve me, I do. And you sounded fucking awesome, just so you know."

"No shit. So, I'm not interrupting you and Cap, am I?"

" _No_ , dude, I told you there's nothing going on." 

"Yet."

"Yet."

"Good, so you guys are free to come party. I'll text you the address. You got twenty minutes or we're taking a foot."  
Bucky sighs. "You people need to stop joking about dismembering me."

"It's no joke."

Dugan hangs up, and Bucky groans and shoves the phone in his pocket. He turns back to the table, where Steve is watching him expectantly. "For the record," Steve says, "I think your friends behaved like assholes, but they meant well."

"I know," Bucky says with a sigh. "You still wanna be my date? We've got a going away party to attend."


	4. Chapter 4

Parties are usually a total nightmare for Bucky, because everyone drinks except him and he ends up either trying to make small talk with people who can't make small talk sober, let alone drunk, or he ends up looking after the idiots that drink too much. It's kind of why he stopped going to parties. Also drinking.

But Commandos parties are a little different, in that half of them are straightedge too, and they all know each other well enough that they don't need to get wrecked to enjoy each other's company. It makes a nice change. There's still dancing though, and it's bad dancing at that. Bucky tries to warn Steve on the way that it's going to be a combination of school disco and dad dancing at its worst, but Steve just shrugs and says, "Bring it on. I don't have a dad anyway."

"Oh wow, awkward conversation much?"

"Sorry," Steve says with a sad, crooked smile. "It's never as funny as I think it will be."

"No shit, dude. I'm sorry about your dad."

"Well, I never really had one, it's okay." He laughs and nudges Bucky with his elbow. "Seriously, let's not talk about parents. We're going to a party, not Thanksgiving."

He half expects Steve to go sober in solidarity when they get to the party, but Bucky finds himself weirdly relieved when they walk in and Steve claps him on the shoulder and says, "I'm getting a beer, catch you later."

The last time Bucky tried dating, his girlfriend had gotten moody and resentful every time they went out, no matter how many times Bucky assured her that he didn't care if she was drinking without him. He heard that her parents booked her into rehab after they broke up. Bucky really needs to stop dating assholes.

As soon as Steve bails, Bucky gets cornered by Jones and Dernier. They're gabbling away in French, but they switch to English when they see him and wave him over to join in. "Sorry about earlier, man," Jones says, reaching for his hand and shaking it with both of his own. "I'd have told you if I knew they were planning that. Dum Dum and his bright ideas."

"I'm fairly certain Falsworth came up with that one," Dernier adds, glancing over his shoulder, where said moron is dancing on a table.

Bucky shifts on the spot, peering down at his toes as if they hold some clue as to how to deal with this situation. "It's cool," he says, frowning. "I mean - I appreciated the sentiment, eventually."

"Where's your cute boyfriend?" Dernier asks. Bucky's head snaps up, and Dernier raises his eyebrows in a _significant_ look. "He's got the ass of a sixteen year old."  
Jones smacks the back of his head. "That's Cap, you idiot."

Dernier shrugs, rubbing at his head with a hurt expression. "Still a nice ass."

"I hadn't noticed," Bucky says, ignoring the way Jones scoffs at him in disbelief. "We're _just friends_."

"More for me then," Dernier says, shrugging again and heading off into the crowd. Jones pats Bucky's shoulder in a way he probably thinks is comforting, but is mostly just patronizing. 

"I'm pretty sure he's not Cap's type, but you better watch it just in case."

Bucky groans. "We're not dating!"

"Bucky, shut up and listen to your friends for once." Jones finds him a drink, but before they can settle down to a non-idiotic conversation, Bucky is dragged away by Dugan and Falsworth. They're both passing merry and are on their way to drunk, which is the politest way of putting it. They pull him into a violent threeway hug that knocks the wind out of him, which is their way of apologizing, and Falsworth manages to knock his drink and spill juice all over Bucky's favorite jeans. He specifically wore them because his ass looks great in them (and why does Steve's butt get all the love? He doesn't even work out!), so it's vaguely irritating to have cranberry juice soaking into his thigh.

"Shit," Falsworth slurs. "I'm sorry, I'm a stupid prick." 

"No, no, forget it," Bucky sighs, because they're just a pair of fucking jeans. Worse things happen at sea. 

"Hey, Bucky, hey," Falsworth says, leaning in close. Bucky can smell whiskey on his breath, on both of them to be honest, and he pulls a face. "My housemate is away tonight. One last roll in the hay before we leave?"

Bucky's just gonna smile and shrug him off, but Falsworth emphasizes his point by grabbing Bucky's ass, and hell no, he's had enough of this. 

"Back off, will you?" Bucky snaps, knocking his hand away. "Hit on someone who's interested, dude. I've told you, I'm not."

Dugan overhears, and he turns back to them and pokes a stubby finger in Falsworth's chest. "Hey, you hitting on Bucky again?" He looks sheepish, and Dugan glowers at him. "Get your shit _together_ , man."

Falsworth looks as if he wants to argue, but he snaps his mouth shut at the look on Dugan's face. "Sorry," he mumbles, like a kid being told off by his parents.

"Besides," Dugan adds, throwing an arm around Bucky's shoulders. "Our little champ here's not on the market anyway."

"Oh, god, not again," Bucky groans. He manages to extricate himself eventually, escaping from the sight of Falsworth trying to pretend he's not disappointed in the slightest, even though he kind of looks like he might cry. The worst part is that they're really good friends when they're sober, Falsworth is just a disaster when he drinks spirits, which is unfortunately quite often. Bucky gets himself a new drink, and strikes up a conversation with Morita and his partner Billie. It's probably the most normal conversation he's had all night, not counting Steve, and it's also blissfully sober. They're having an indepth debate about body politics when Steve sidles up to Bucky's elbow and grabs his wrist excitedly. 

"Hey!" he says, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed. "Been looking for you."

"Having a good time?" Bucky asks, mirroring Steve's open, happy expression. 

"Come and dance with me."

Bucky shakes his head and tries to protest, but Morita and Billie both shove him towards Steve and the dance floor, and it seems like he doesn't have a choice. "Get in there, candy ass," Morita shouts after him, of course. 

He laughs and shoots them a fake glare. "Alright, alright."

Steve pulls him through to the other room, where people are dancing to cheesy pop music. It's not quite as bad as Bucky predicted, at least not yet, but it's on the way. He and Steve dance like idiots for a couple of songs, and it feels nice to let himself go for a while. Then a slow song comes on. They exchange an awkward look, and Steve clears his throat. "Uh, we could get a drink?"

Bucky shakes his head and slides his arm around Steve's waist. "I still wanna dance, if you do."

Nodding, Steve puts his arms around Bucky's neck and stares up at him. It's intense, and it makes them both giggle self-consciously, but neither of them look away. If things were different, Bucky knows that now is the moment he would kiss Steve. He would almost close his eyes, and he would lean down and then Steve would close his eyes too as he stood on tiptoe to reach Bucky's mouth. And they would kiss slowly as they swayed on the spot, and Steve would put his fingers through Bucky's hair and Bucky would put his hand on Steve's back, under his shirt. He can see in Steve's eyes that he wants to as well, but Bucky doesn't want this to be their first kiss. Not when Steve is drunk, and all of Bucky's interfering pervert friends are watching and judging every second of it. 

Bucky pulls away, because he can't believe he's thinking about this. They still barely know each other, and Bucky's already told himself a hundred times that they're just going to be friends.

"Everything okay?" Steve asks him with barely-hidden concern. 

"You wanna get out of here?"

Steve nods, and Bucky tries not to watch as he licks his lips to soften them. "Okay."

They get a cab, and Bucky takes a deep breath after he gives the address. "Hey, awkward revelations again, but I wanna tell you something."

Steve turns his sleepy gaze on Bucky. "You're actually a married woman with three kids."

"Close. Although now there's no way I'm gonna tell you the truth," he teases, "about how much I wanted to kiss you when we were dancing."

Steve looks surprised, but pleased. "I really wanted you to kiss me."

"I know. But I really want to be your friend."

Steve smiles at him, and doesn't even pause for breath. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Bucky," he says in a voice that means _idiot_. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Bucky can't help himself. He leans over and kisses Steve quickly on the cheek, and Steve laughs. "Okay, mixed signals much?"

"I wanna be your friend, but I also want you to know how _fucking_ awesome you are."

"Noted."

When the cab drops them off outside Bucky's door, he pulls Steve in for a brief hug. "Want me to walk you home?"

Steve snorts with laughter. "I'll manage."

"Hey," Bucky shouts after him. "Wanna hang out sometime?"

"Hell yes!" Steve yells back, high-fiving the air in his direction. Bucky returns it, laughing as he backs up towards his steps. He waits until Steve stumbles inside before he climbs up to his own front door.

 

 

Bucky goes back to work that weekend, yawning through his shift at the radio station after a long few days of painting (with the right kind of paint this time), and for the next few weeks his life falls into a nice, easy rhythm. Steve comes over every other day when he can spare the time and helps Bucky sand down floorboards, paint walls and ceilings, and carry power tools home from the store. Sometimes he just has time for coffee, but Bucky makes the most of it. He works three or four nights a week, and when he's not trying to catch up on sleep he bakes, works out, naps on the couch while Steve composes, and hangs around with Peggy when Steve needs to work undisturbed.

The Commandos aren't there to complain about him going MIA, but they call him almost every day to catch up. Every Skype chat makes Bucky feel raw with pride and nostalgia. On the other hand, they're all convinced that he and Steve are fucking already, and rag him about it every second they're not in rehearsal, on stage, or sleeping. Bucky thinks he remembers having other friends outside the band, but he can't think of anyone he wants to see besides Steve and Peggy, except Becca, who's too far away.

There haven't been any more sleepovers since that first night, except for one time that Steve falls asleep on his couch during a Lord of the Rings marathon, and the time they both fall asleep on Steve and Peggy's roof, only waking up when the sun comes up and they're shivering under their jackets. Steve jokes about them taking a hot shower together, and Bucky almost cracks, but instead he goes home and jerks off alone in the bath. He's not even sure why he's holding out any more, except that it feels like a lot to lose - the only new friendships he's made in years, this neighborhood that he really likes, that feels like he's finally come home - just for the sake of a fling. Because he's worried that's all it would be, and if he knows one thing by now, he knows that he's not interested in having just a fling with Steve.

One afternoon, he's standing in the doorway to the den, listening to Steve play and sing something he knows from one of Lehigh's EPs, when the front door opens and Peggy comes in. She takes one look at Bucky, then at Steve who doesn't even seem to know they're there, and drags Bucky into the kitchen by his shirt collar. 

"Are you actually fucking with me?" she asks, throwing her purse down on the table. 

"Peggy, what the hell?" 

"Are you both masters of sex espionage? Because as far as I can tell, you're all but dating, so you might as well get on with consummating it."

"No no, we're just friends."

"You're crazy about each other!" she shouts. "And it's driving me crazy!" She points a finger at him, which is more threatening than Bucky would like to admit, when it has Peggy Carter's furious expression behind it. "If you don't get off with each other soon, I think the excess sexual tension in the air is actually going to become so dense, I'll get the gay bends and die. Is that what you want?"

"No!" Bucky says loudly, to halt the barrage. "I don't want to spoil this, okay?" he adds in a quiet voice. "I like Steve a lot, I'm not gonna deny that, but you guys are my friends, I really don't wanna screw that up."

Peggy's voice and her expression soften, just a little. "We're not complete bastards, you know. If it doesn't work out, we're not just going to cut you out of our lives."  
Bucky doesn't really have anything to say to that, but he knows that she's right. It isn't really fair of him to make assumptions about what Steve and Peggy choose to do. He folds his arms and bites his bottom lip, searching for the right thing to say. 

"Hey." They both jump, neither of them having noticed that the music had stopped. Steve stands at the kitchen door, his hands in his pockets and his expression calm and unreadable. "That's what you're worried about?" Steve doesn't wait for an answer. He holds his hand out to Bucky. "Come on, I wanna show you something."

Bucky can't help feeling he's about to get yelled at some more, or failing that, Steve is just gonna jump him. He starts angsting about how to let Steve down gently, not to mention how he's gonna say no at all when what he wants more than anything is to tear Steve's clothes off, but Steve doesn't take Bucky to his bedroom, instead he leads him up to the roof. Steve heads straight for the pigeon coop in the corner. Obviously, he knows that Steve keeps pigeons, but it's an abstract thing in his head, because he's never seen them except for a twisting shape in the sky, and Steve rarely mentions them unless pushed, and then only to say "They're just my birds" and shrug it off.

Steve opens the door, and gestures for Bucky to come closer. Inside are a bunch of little shelves or cubby holes, sort of like bunk beds, with pigeons occupying around half of them. They make a soft murmuring noise, and when Steve lifts one down from a shelf, it doesn't struggle, just shifts to get comfortable in his hands.

"You wanna hold her?" Steve asks, offering the bird to Bucky. 

He holds out his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Steve cups one of his own against Bucky's. The pigeon is smaller and lighter than he expected in his hands, and he can feel her heart beating rapidly against his palm. 

"They're amazing," Bucky says, stroking her plumage gently with his thumb. "How come you never talk about them?"

Steve shrugs. "Most people don't get it. They're - I mean, I love them, but for me they're almost a tool."

"A tool for what?" Bucky laughs. "Are they like the New York equivalent of flying monkeys?"

He regrets the levity at once, because Steve just shakes his head and squints as he tries to find the right words. "It's like - so, I love my piano and it has a kind of soul to me, but it's a tool to help me make music, same with pencils and sketchbooks. The pigeons - watching them fly helps me to write, or draw."

"You fly them a lot?"

"Every day, pretty much. I have a friend who helps out if I'm busy, or away." Steve smiles shyly. "You want to see?"

Bucky nods. "Of course I do."

He hands back the little pigeon, and watches while Steve refreshes their water and feeds them some birdseed. "They get more after they've flown," he explains, and Bucky makes an assenting noise, to show Steve that he's interested. After that, Steve goes on explaining what he's doing and why, telling him about different types of pigeons and how they used to be kept and bred for a purpose in the city, and now there are just weirdos like him keeping them just for the sake of watching them fly.

Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, except that it makes him fall in love with Steve a little bit. He decides to keep quiet, rather than say the wrong thing, and after a few minutes Steve steps back and tells him they're ready.

Whatever Bucky had expected from watching the pigeons in flight, it's a hundred times better than he could have imagined. They move in sync, like a school of fish splitting and gathering, turning together in a shimmer of movement. Suddenly, he can see why Steve loves this, and why people do this just for the beauty of the birds in the air. He takes his eye off them briefly, just to look at Steve's face, and there's so much rapt beauty there that Bucky has to look away again. He finds Steve's hand with his own and twists their fingers together. 

It feels like no time at all before Steve clears his throat and says he's gonna put them back to bed, but Bucky checks his phone and it's been almost an hour. He waits and watches while Steve takes care of the flock, feeding and fussing over them, with the same care and focus he uses for playing. When he's done, he seems like he doesn't quite know where to look, casting his eyes aside and holding his arm across his chest protectively.

"Everything okay?" Bucky asks, going over to him.

"I just wanted you to see that," Steve says. "I mean, it might not work for you, but something will. You just need to find that thing that makes you wanna write, you know? The thing that helps you make the pictures in your head into words."

Again, Bucky is speechless, because Steve is beautiful and kind and talented and just shared with him the biggest thing in his life besides Peggy, so that's how he knows it's right. He takes a step forward, feeling his heart pumping wild in his throat. Steve looks up at him, and his eyes widen for a second, before he shuts them and Bucky pushes his fingers into Steve's hair and kisses him. 

It's just a kiss. Bucky has kissed plenty of people in his time and he knows it's just a kiss, but he's overwhelmed by how soft Steve's hair feels between his fingers, and how his mouth is hot and pliant. 

"That okay?" he whispers, breaking off.

Steve groans and puts his hands around Bucky's waist to pull him closer. "If you had any idea how much time I spend thinking about your mouth." He finishes the thought by standing up on tiptoe to kiss Bucky again, nudging at Bucky's bottom lip with his tongue. He flicks it over Bucky's lip ring, which he pulls into his mouth, worrying at the pinched flesh with his teeth.

Bucky groans, and pulls Steve against him hard. Steve releases his mouth, and his lips make a smile against Bucky's. 

"Bucky?"

"Uh huh."

"Can we go to bed now please?"

Bucky wants to laugh, because that might be the dumbest and most welcome thing Steve has ever said, but he can't really seem to get enough air so he just nods and kisses Steve again instead. Grabbing his hand, Steve leads him downstairs to his bedroom, but he hesitates in the doorway. "Shit, we should wash our hands." He grins. "Pigeons."

They cram into the bathroom together, elbowing each other at the sink good-naturedly. Steve snatches the towel away before Bucky can get it, so Bucky just puts his wet hand on Steve's neck and pulls him up to kiss again, hot and open-mouthed. Steve wraps the towel around Bucky's waist and uses it like a lasso to pull him in closer. Bucky pushes him up against the wall, and Steve starts to unfasten Bucky's pants, and Bucky decides they really need to get to Steve's bedroom right now. He leads the way, and Steve pauses to shut the door behind them. 

"Sure you wanna do this?" he asks, looking pained to even say it, but Bucky knows that if he showed the slightest hesitation, Steve would stop right away. 

He nods. "Pretty damn sure."

"Thank God," Steve mutters, kissing him again. "I thought you were gonna hold out forever."

Bucky groans and slides his hands around Steve's waist, cupping his delicate ribcage. "Against you? Not a chance."

Steve's mouth half quirks in a smile. "Want me to put some music on?"

"No," Bucky says, pitching his voice low and crowding Steve up against the door. "I wanna hear every sound you make."

Steve obligingly makes one for him right then, something between a moan and a growl, and reaches up for Bucky's face with one hand, while the other slides under Bucky's shirt. He gets his fingers in Bucky's hair and turns his face into the hot skin of Bucky's neck, mouthing over one of his tattoos and worrying at it with his teeth.

Bucky groans and gathers Steve in his arms, thankful that Steve seems to have intuited how much he enjoys biting. "Can you pick me up?" Steve mutters, scraping his teeth at the space below Bucky's left ear. "I just - I keep thinking about it, about how strong you are, I bet you could pick me up no problem."

That's more than enough encouragement for Bucky. He bends down and gets his forearms under Steve's ass (well, forearm and a half), hauling him up and pinning him back against the door with a _thump_. Steve instinctively wraps his arms around Bucky's shoulders, and kisses him hard, hands on his face, fingers on his jaw. Bucky's arm shakes, but he's good, he's got this. He grabs one of Steve's thighs and pulls it up around his waist, and Steve gets the hint and does the same with his other, while Bucky turns and walks them slowly over to the bed, trying to make sure he's not going to crash into anything while Steve tonguefucks his mouth like a fucking demon. 

Bucky feels his shins hit the bedframe and he dumps Steve down on the mattress before crawling up between his thighs. They latch around his waist again, and Bucky puts his hand back to grip Steve's leg, supporting his weight on his left elbow. 

"Why the hell did we wait so long to do this?" Steve murmurs, craning his head up for a kiss.

Bucky smiles into his mouth, and he tries to stop but he only ends up smiling more. "I was waiting for the right time." He knows how cheesy it sounds, but he could care less, because Steve is writhing underneath him and the sun is coming in and making his hair and skin shine gold, and that is all Bucky really needs. "You have any condoms?"  
Steve gasps and nips his mouth. "Did you even _hear me_ when I said I've been waiting to do this for weeks?" He scoots out from under Bucky and opens a drawer in his bedside table. Bucky only gets a quick peek, but he definitely spots something that looks suspiciously like a buttplug, and possibly also some handcuffs. He files that away for later. Steve glances back at him. "Uh, here's the first of many awkward questions - lube?"

The look Bucky gives him is filthy. He knows: he's practiced it in the mirror. "Only if you want me to finger you while I'm sucking your dick."

Steve's eyes go wide with desire, and he wastes no time in going back to root through the drawer again. When he drops his finds on the bed, Bucky reaches out for him. "C'mere," he mutters, pulling Steve close to him and kissing him again, his fingers soft on Steve's jaw. Kneeling, there's less of a height difference between them, and as much as he loves how tiny Steve is, he also enjoys being able to kiss him like this, lining their bodies up like jigsaw pieces. 

"Are you sure you - oh, yeah, that feels good - you don't want me to put some music on?"

"What's wrong? You don't want Peggy to overhear?" He chuckles and kisses Steve's jaw. "I'm pretty sure she already knows."

"No I don't mind, but-" 

This is sounding serious, so Bucky pulls back, giving Steve some space. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's stupid."

"All the same."

Steve shakes his head once and huffs. "I just - most guys aren't comfortable with it," he mumbles, scratching at his arm and looking away from Bucky.

"With no music?" Bucky feels like he's being really dumb, but he's got to get this clear and that means Steve needs to tell him. 

Steve sighs and pouts his lips for a second, considering his answer. "With Peggy."

_Oh_. "You mean, they're not comfortable with you guys living together?" he urges. "How close you are?"

Steve nods silently, looking more miserable by the second. Bucky feels a little sick, but he gets it, and he wishes he didn't have to. "Steve," he says, touching Steve's chin with his thumb and forefinger and turning his face up to his own. "Listen. No offence, but I think you've been dating some serious assholes." Steve smirks, and huffs some air out of his nose, but he doesn't meet Bucky's eyes. Bucky takes a deep breath and goes for it. "I may not totally understand what you and Peggy have, but I respect the hell out of it, and I don't want - whatever this is with us, okay? - I don't want that to interfere with you guys."

Steve closes his eyes for a second, then looks up at Bucky all misty-eyed and beautiful. "You are too fucking good to be true."

"I know, right? Now take your pants off already."

Steve doesn't waste any time with that one, and as soon as he's kicked them off, Bucky grabs one of his feet as he lies back. He kisses Steve's big toe first, delighted to find that Steve's toes are as soft as he expected them to be. He still doesn't know why the fuck he's obsessed with Steve's feet, but he's not about to question it right now. Moving on, he kisses the sole of Steve's foot, then the back of his knee. Steve moans gently, and Bucky rewards him with a brief squeeze through his underwear. He picks up Steve's hand next and kisses each one of his fingertips, before pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at Steve's lifelines with his teeth.

"God," Steve groans. "I can't believe you're gonna torture me."

He nips Steve's wrist, and feels the pulse jump under his fingertips. "You waited this long," he says, pressing one of Steve's fingers against his lips. "You can wait a little longer." He sucks the finger into his mouth, grabbing the tip gently between his teeth, then sucking it down against the flat of his tongue. Steve whimpers, and Bucky curls his tongue around another finger and draws it into his mouth alongside the first one. Steve fists his other hand in Bucky's shirt, and clamps his thighs around Bucky's. 

"God, your mouth," Steve murmurs, "your fucking _mouth_ , Bucky." His hand paddles on Bucky's stomach like a kitten's paw, and he looks as if he can't decide whether to look away or keep staring at Bucky's mouth until he goes blind. "Fuck, fuck, please," he gasps, "you gotta stop, I'm gonna come in my pants you _asshole_."

Bucky releases his fingers with a cackle and strokes his own fingertips down the side of Steve's face, smiling when he leans into it. He draws a line down Steve's neck, his chest, all the way down to his dick, which strains up against his boxers. "May I?" he mutters, hooking one finger into the waistband. 

Steve sheds his underwear in about the time it takes to blink, and lies back with his thighs framing Bucky, and his t-shirt rucked up to show off his belly and the tattoo along the bottom right hand side of his ribcage. "Oh wow," Bucky mutters, touching it with his fingertips. He's seen glimpses of it before, but never the whole thing. It looks kind of like a floral, vine-like design at first, but when he looks closer he realizes it's all made up of cogs and wires. "This is beautiful." He glances up at Steve's face, the shy, open expression he's wearing. "You're fucking beautiful."

Steve reaches out to touch Bucky's stomach, pushes his hands up under his shirt to stroke the hair beneath his belly button. "I wanna look at you too," he says quietly, but he cracks into a smile. "Again, I mean. Consensually, this time."

Bucky starts laughing. "Oh shit, you watch me through the window too, don't you?"

"You're so much less stealthy than you think."

"Oh man, busted as fuck," Bucky says, laughing self-consciously. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Still, don't tell me you _normally_ spend that much time naked in front of your bedroom window."

"Only when the hottest guy I've ever met lives across the street."

He laughs, and Steve just _glows_ below him. Bucky is also starting to wonder why he didn't do this sooner. "Give me a hand?" he asks, moving Steve's fingers down to his jeans. Steve gets up on his knees and unfastens Bucky's jeans right away, pulling them down his thighs and letting his hands linger. 

"Are you wearing superhero panties?" he asks, grinning. 

Bucky looks down, and yeah, he's totally wearing the superhero underwear his sister bought him for Christmas because he hasn't done laundry in almost two weeks because he's been spending every goddamn spare minute with Steve. 

"Are you seriously wasting time looking at my underwear?" he asks, because it's the surest way to get Steve to move the fuck on from that.

Steve just answers by kissing him. He takes it slower this time as he walks up to Bucky on his knees and presses their bodies together again. Bucky thinks he could spend most of every day kissing Steve, especially slow like this, Steve's fingers in his hair while Bucky gets an arm around his waist and pulls him in hard. They both rock their hips into each other, slow at first, reveling in the feeling of another body. Bucky strokes his fingers from the back of Steve's neck, tracing down his spine. He loves the way Steve shivers into it. 

"I really wanna blow you," he says, and bites Steve's bottom lip. "I want to put my mouth all over your body and I'm gonna start with your dick."

Steve just whimpers, and reaches behind him to grab a condom off the bed. Bucky's a little tempted to use his mouth, because honestly rolling on a condom with his tongue is like riding a bike, even if he hasn't done it since college, but he also thinks Steve might explode if he tried it and that kind of defeats the point. Steve starts to lie back, but Bucky grabs his arm and holds him upright. "Stay where you are," he growls. "Spread your legs."

"Oh -" Steve pants in a rough voice, eyes wide and surprised, "I think I like you telling me what to do." He moves his knees apart on the bed and pushes his glasses up his nose.  
Bucky laughs and sits down crosslegged in front of him, because it's the easiest way to keep his balance and reach everything he needs to reach. He nuzzles his face into Steve's belly, opening his mouth to the soft skin, pressing his thumb over Steve's sharp hipbone. Steve's fingers push into his hair and Bucky smiles.

"You can pull it pretty hard if you want. I really like it." It turns out Steve likes it too. He twists his fingers into Bucky's hair and tucks the other around his jaw. 

Bucky grabs the lube and passes it up to him. "Hey, I need a hand with this." Steve squeezes some out for him, and Bucky wets his fingers before pushing his arm between Steve's thighs, and stroking his hole from below with two fingers. At the same time, he leans in and licks Steve's dick from bottom to top like an ice lolly.

"Mmm," Steve groans, tugging a little on his hair. "Did I mention yet how fucking glad I am we're doing this?"

His fingers tense and tighten again, and Bucky laughs with his mouth still grazing Steve's dick. "Say it as many times as you want," he mutters, before pulling Steve's dick into his mouth with his tongue. His fingers circle around Steve's hole, stroking over it. Steve pushes back into his hand, and he pushes his middle finger in, barely anything at first, just to the first knuckle, and back out again when Steve tries to angle for more. "Uh uh," he murmurs teasingly. 

Steve groans, pulling hard on Bucky's hair, which makes _him_ moan and push his finger deep inside Steve, crooking his hand so he has room to work. Really, all he's got to do is keep himself steady and let Steve carry on fucking himself between Bucky's mouth and fingers like he's already trying to do. Yeah, maybe another time. For now, Bucky intends to work him over with everything he's got. He stills Steve with his left arm and bends him forward slightly. 

"Put your weight on my shoulders," he mutters, releasing Steve's dick with a soft, slurping sound that makes Steve whimper. He does, and Bucky uses the angle for better leverage to rock two fingers into Steve's ass, feeling the muscle strain and then relax at the bump of his knuckles. 

"Yes, yes," Steve chants, pulling Bucky's head in close. Bucky relaxes his throat and lets Steve fill his mouth, pushing his nose into Steve's soft belly skin. He jerks away from Bucky again, dick popping out as he pushes onto Bucky's hand, still greedy for more. "Bucky," Steve sighs, adding it into his litany, "Bucky yes yes Bucky yes Bucky _Bucky_ -"  
He tries not to, but it makes him laugh, and he leans in to kiss Steve's hip and gnaw at his thigh. "Never gonna forget my name with you around, am I?"

"Damn straight," Steve mutters. "Hey, tell me what you want me to do."

Bucky pushes his grin into Steve's hip and imprints it with his teeth. "Well I gotta say, I think Peggy will be disappointed if she doesn't get some kind of show. Why don't you just make as much noise as you want while I make you come in my mouth?"

"Shit," Steve whispers, leaning over again to kiss the top of Bucky's head, fingers threading through his hair. "Yeah," he moans, letting the sound spool out of him as Bucky takes his weeping cock in his mouth again. "Yeah, I can do that."

If Bucky's honest with himself, which he tries to be, he was really hoping Steve would be a screamer. Absolutely _nothing_ gets Bucky hard like hearing his partners have a good time in bed, and he's been wanting to listen to Steve come apart for long enough now. He works his fingers in and out with a slow rhythm, curling them on the upstroke to catch him as Steve thrusts into his mouth. Steve doesn't need much encouragement to fuck Bucky's mouth; it feels incredible to have this tiny, sweet little guy grab his hair and fuck into his throat like he wants to break through it, and when Steve starts moaning with it, gasping and twisting his body into Bucky at either side, Bucky honestly thinks he might explode. Steve's losing his balance, his knees sliding out as he tries to give Bucky better access. Bucky pauses, because he needs to give Steve more and he can't like this. 

"Hey," he whispers, trying not to laugh when Steve whimpers angrily at the loss of his touch. He grabs the bottle of lube again and hands it over. "Help me with this." Steve groans and takes it with shaking fingers. "You okay?" Bucky asks, looking up at him. 

Steve looks down, his eyes wide and dark, and bends to kiss him. He drops the lube to cup Bucky's face, nuzzling into his stubbled cheek before he pushes their mouths together, soft at first. Bucky grabs for his elbow as Steve licks into his mouth, and he pulls Steve towards him, leaning back onto the bed. They keep on kissing as they sprawl out together, Steve's dick jabbing Bucky in the stomach insistently, but Steve doesn't seem too worried about getting back to what they were doing. He bites Bucky's lower lip, grinds it between his teeth and smiles when it makes Bucky moan out loud. "You've got the best fucking mouth," he mutters, moving one of his hands up to touch, thumb pressing on Bucky's lip. "I think I could just kiss you all night."

"If we do that, I won't get to feel you come in my mouth," Bucky points out, and reaches between them to squeeze Steve's dick gently, wishing he could feel it without the tacky condom. 

Steve moans and kisses him again hard, but he takes Bucky's point, and allows himself to be rolled over onto his side. He picks up the lube again without being prompted and helps Bucky slick up his fingers again. Bucky shuffles down to bring his face level with Steve's crotch and hauls Steve's left thigh up over his shoulder, spreading him open. "Oh Jesus," Steve moans, wrapping his fingers around the back of Bucky's neck. "Fuck me, Bucky, please fuck me."

"Believe me I'm gonna," he mutters, kissing the head of Steve's cock with a smile. "Soon as I'm done fingering your sweet little ass."

It gets a pained laugh out of Steve, but he's too gone, too desperate. "Fucking do it already," he hisses, pulling impatiently at Bucky's hair with sticky fingers. Bucky laughs and pulls Steve's dick into his mouth again, then screws three fingers into him, his stomach lurching at the low, desperate moan that rolls up from Steve's chest and echoes out of his throat, increasing in volume the harder Bucky works him with his mouth. He crooks his fingers again, searching for Steve's prostate, and he knows the second he finds it because Steve goes rigid against him, his breath coming out in a sharp gasp. "Oh fuck, oh fuck," Steve groans, pulling too hard at Bucky's hair, and reaching down to feel his cheek, feel his dick sliding in and out of Bucky's wet mouth. "Fuck, Bucky, I'm so close, I'm so - god, I'm gonna-"

Bucky closes his eyes and takes Steve down as deep as he can manage, swallowing past his gag reflex as best he can, focusing on keeping his hand moving in a steady rhythm. He doesn't have to worry too hard because Steve is losing it, losing control, doing most of the work for him as his body shakes between Bucky's fingers and his mouth. Steve's grip tightens in his hair, on his face, and then relaxes as he comes apart with a loud sob, Bucky's name breaking apart on his tongue. He heaves for breath, and Bucky pulls away sooner than he likes because he doesn't want to give Steve an asthma attack. He runs his fingers up Steve's thigh and along his waist, curling them into Steve's damp t-shirt. Apparently he needn't have panicked about Steve's breathing; he's groaning still, heaving for breath, but he's not struggling. Bucky kisses his throat, and Steve's arm comes lazily around his shoulder to hold him. 

"Wow," he murmurs, and pushes his mouth against Bucky's temple. "You - you're incredible."

"I'm not done yet," Bucky whispers, a promise against Steve's chin before he surges up to take his mouth again. 

Steve hums happily, and his eyes flick half open, contented like a sleepy cat. "Y'gonna fuck me now?"

"You want me to?"

"So much," Steve groans, pulling him close for a kiss. "So fucking much. Just want you, all over me."

Bucky has to hide his face in Steve's neck, he's grinning too much, it's too embarrassing, not to mention he's already way too fucking turned on just at the _sight_ of Steve right now. He puts his hand on his dick and squeezes the base of it, willing himself not to come until he's drilling Steve into the goddamned mattress. Although, he does get the feeling that even if he did blow his load too soon, they'd just make out until they were ready to go again, and the thought is pretty comforting. "Your turn," he says, putting his hand back up to touch Steve's face. "Where d'you want me?"

Steve looks around, dazed. He glances down and pulls a face at the sight of the condom going baggy and wrinkled around his dick and reaches down to dispose of it. "Uh. What's easiest for you?" He raises his eyebrow a shade and his lip curls, and Bucky sees the wicked, trickster Steve come back into his expression. "How about I ride you?"

Bucky grins. "Saddle me up."

"Oh my god, shut up," Steve laughs, dodging when Bucky goes to kiss him and biting at the side of his neck instead. "You're such a _dweeb_."

Steve's teeth on his neck, gnawing gently at the tendons and muscle, are already kind of driving Bucky out of his mind, but he summons enough strength of will to say, "You noticed."

Steve rolls his eyes and pokes at Bucky until he gets settled amongst Steve's pillows, his back to the headboard. He picks up a condom and rolls it on in one swift movement, then he clambers right into Bucky's lap without waiting to be asked. "I'm gonna make you come so hard," he mutters, grabbing Bucky's face by the chin and kissing him brutally. 

Bucky shuts his eyes when Steve grabs hold of his dick and sits up on his knees to get himself in the right place. "Steve-" he mutters.

"Nuh uh," Steve murmurs, pushing down very gently so the head of Bucky's dick just strains at his ass, the ring of muscle. "I'm in charge now."

Bucky laughs and wraps his arms around Steve, but he doesn't try and urge him on any faster, just lets Steve set the pace. As he finally starts to sink down, achingly slow, Bucky pushes his face into Steve's chest, turns an ear to hear his heartbeat. He screws his eyes shut and banks the sensations; Steve's uneven breaths; the slow crescendo of his rhythmic heartbeat; the impossible heat of him enveloping Bucky's dick. Whatever happens, he wants to remember everything about this. 

"Bucky?" Steve murmurs, cradling his head. "You alright?"

Bucky nods. He can't seem to put any words together, so he settles for holding Steve tight in his arms and hoping that says enough. He rocks his hips in time with Steve's slow, determined movements, and forces himself to open his eyes so he can watch Steve in the dwindling light. They still haven't managed to get undressed all the way; they both still have their shirts on, and Steve just pulled Bucky's dick out of his stupid superhero boxers without bothering to take them off, so they're gonna be ruined by the time they're done. Not that he cares. He keeps his left arm wrapped around Steve and reaches his fingers to touch the red marks on Steve's throat where he bit him when they were kissing. He rubs his thumb over the tiny tattoo of a pistol under Steve's collarbone that he knows belongs to Peggy, even though neither of them have ever said so. Steve's hair is mussed and there's color across his cheekbones and his chest, and his mouth, his fucking _mouth_ , is so red, Bucky can't stop looking at it. 

"You're awful quiet," Steve says in a low voice, digging his fingers into Bucky's hair so he can scrape his nails over his scalp. It sets Bucky off moaning gently, and Steve smiles against his cheek. "That's better, let's have more of that."

Bucky just nods against his chest, wishing he could explain how lost he feels in Steve's warmth and movement, how overwhelmed he is by the sensations, but the whole point is that he _can't_. Steve makes a fist in his hair and tugs his head back so that he can bite Bucky's neck and his earlobe, drawing out from him another long, low moan. It grounds him, and he stops feeling so lost inside his own skin, inside Steve, remembers where he ends and Steve starts. "Harder," he mutters, making sure he's got Steve's good ear. "Fuck me harder, please."

"Mm my pleasure," Steve growls, lifting himself up on his skinny legs and driving down on Bucky's dick. "Like that?"

Bucky nods and clutches at Steve's back, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his damp t-shirt. Steve is hot and sticky, and when Bucky breathes all he can smell is Steve's skin and sweat. It's intense, almost too much, and he has to shut his eyes tight and force himself to focus on his own breathing, lining it up with Steve's. He fumbles into the rhythm, rolling his hips in time with Steve's determined movements, fucking up into that perfect heat. 

It's been several months since he got laid, even longer since it was with a guy, and he hasn't topped another guy since college, if you can even call this topping: the way Steve is riding him and grabbing at his hair and biting his neck, he doesn't feel much in charge anymore, and it feels incredible. 

"I'm gonna keep riding your dick until you come," Steve mutters, his voice pitched low. He drags Bucky's head back by his hair and mouths at his jawline. "I'm gonna make you come so hard, you'll never want to leave my bed."

"Mission accomplished on that front," Bucky returns in a voice trembling with laughter. "Pretty happy - ungh, Steve, holy shit - happy where I am." He sighs when Steve kisses the corner of his mouth, surprisingly gentle until he introduces his teeth. He nips and bites down hard, then smoothes it over with his mouth, kissing him lazily. He rocks forwards into Bucky, his dick hard again and pushing into Bucky's stomach.

"Can I help you with that?" he whispers as Steve pulls off from kissing him. He scrapes his fingernails down Steve's ribs, and pushes his hand between them. "I'd like to help."  
Steve half laughs, half groans, and kisses him again, harder this time. He starts to pull away but pauses to suck the end of Bucky's tongue into his mouth, eliciting a noisy groan from Bucky, who hadn't realized how hot that could be. "Sorry," he murmurs, pressing his hot forehead against Bucky's. "Kinda obsessed with your mouth."

"Understandable," Bucky says with a smirk. He brushes his fingers over Steve's dick, and sucks in his belly so that he's got enough room to curl his hand around it. "This okay?"

"Mmm, perfect," Steve moans, clenching down on Bucky's dick and making him gasp. 

"Steve, shit," Bucky hisses, fingers working loose around Steve's hot flesh. "Oh god, yeah, fuck me."

They both get lost in their senses it seems, Bucky's world narrowed down to the little column of heat and life and movement between him and Steve; his legs stretched out have ceased to exist, and he's only still aware of his hair because Steve keeps jerking it with his fingers. Steve is sticky thighs pressed tight to his hips, hard flesh under his fingertips and soft heat surrounding him; he's warm whispered breath and a skinny, heaving chest. And then he's wetness on Bucky's knuckles, a whimper in his ears and the tightest fist closing on his dick. Bucky jerks into the grasping heat of Steve's ass, trying to remember to touch him; trying to remember to let go again when Steve starts whining deep in his throat. 

"'M gonna, 'm gonna-" is all he manages to say, before he buries his slick fingers in Steve's shirt and crushes him close with both arm while he comes, and comes, shuddering in Steve's limp embrace. 

Steve cradles his head and kisses him all over his face, everywhere but his mouth until Bucky makes a vague sound of protest, and turns to capture Steve's mouth with his own. They let their tongues get properly acquainted while they sit and hold each other, until a few minutes have passed, and Steve breaks off with a complaint about his thighs. Bucky grabs his shoulders and rolls them both over, no problem, so that he's still tucked inside Steve and they don't have to go anywhere just yet.

"You're my favorite," Steve says sleepily, stroking Bucky's cheek with the back of his finger. "Will you stay?"

Bucky grins and glances over at the alarm clock. "It's only nine, you thought I'd just get up and go?"

Steve shrugs one-shouldered. "I just wanna make sure you're staying. Been waiting for another chance to spoon you."

"Can't say no to that," Bucky laughs. He shifts to get comfortable, and his dick finally slips out of Steve's ass. "Ugh," he sighs, and rolls over so he can pull off the condom. 

"Let me get that," Steve says gently, reaching down to work it off with gentle fingers. Bucky puts up a token protest, but truth be told he likes Steve's careful touch on his oversensitive skin, and he doesn't wanna be the asshole who refuses to let anyone do shit for him just out of pride. He's been there, done that.

Steve tosses the condom in the trash and settles down beside Bucky, who rolls over to find a space waiting for him in the nook of Steve's right arm. He shuffles into it with a smile, putting his head on Steve's shoulder and draping his arm over Steve's chest. He strokes Steve's left nipple absently. "So we're doing this, huh?"

Steve gives a warm little chuckle and nuzzles into Bucky's cheek. "Seems like."

"You think Peggy really heard all that?"

"There's like, an eighty percent chance she's hidden a baby monitor in here somewhere."

"Great."

Steve sighs, just a little, and turns his eyes away. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"I'm sure, Steve," he says, moving his hand up to touch Steve's jaw and angle him for a delicate kiss. "I'm sorry, I was only teasing. I meant what I said about you and Peggy. And, swear to god, if the only way this could happen was her standing over us with a clipboard, then so be it."

That earns him a snort of laughter, which he counts as a win, and tucks his face back into Steve's neck where he can listen to his pulse rate slowly decrease and settle into a slow, regular rhythm. 

They get up eventually to shower (together, which ends up in a slippery, soapy rutting session that doesn't really get resolved right away), then head downstairs to order some takeout. Peggy has disappeared, but her keys are still on the hook so Steve points out that she's probably just gone upstairs to jill off. 

"But not really, right?" Bucky asks, remembering the baby monitor comment.

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Remember asking Peggy how often she listens to me having sex?"

"Uh huh."

"It's a lot. And she enjoys it."

Bucky blinks. "Wow, that's - kinda hot. Like _really_ kinda hot."

Steve throws down the phone and the takeout menu and tackles Bucky onto the sofa to make out with him some more. "You," he mutters between kisses, "are literally - the fucking - _best_ -"

"Can I get that in writing?"

"I'll tattoo it on my ass," Steve says, straddling his hips. "That way you'll see it every time you bend me over and fuck me." He grinds down on Bucky's lap, making his blood rush South, despite the fact that he's totally exhausted. 

"Steve," Bucky says in a warning voice. "Not _here_."

Steve grins down on him again. " _Yes_ ," he breathes, when Bucky answers with a guttural sound in his throat. 

"Fine," Bucky murmurs, grabbing his hip and rolling him onto his back. "Cowboy the fuck up."

There's a whole lot of giggling and wrestling and dryhumping that follows, and at one point Bucky is _sure_ he hears footsteps on the stairs, but Peggy doesn't interrupt so he decides not to worry about it. They get takeout eventually.


	5. Chapter 5

Waking up the next morning is the best and worst feeling that Bucky has ever experienced. He wants more than anything to stay in that soft, cotton candy space where he's warm and safe and surrounded by the heat of another body. And yet waking up to find Steve pressed against him, limbs tangling around him and his eyelids flickering through the remnants of a dream, is the happiest Bucky has felt in a really, really long time. 

He shifts to get more comfortable, because Steve is heavier than he looks, his sleeping body all dead weight on Bucky's chest and thigh, and Steve opens his eyes a crack. 

"Hey," Bucky murmurs. He reaches up to stroke Steve's hair, pulling it back off his forehead. 

"Mmm, hey," Steve mumbles, leaning into his touch. "I thought you were a dream."

Bucky smiles and kisses Steve's left eyebrow. "Nope, I'm definitely here."

"Good." He sighs and snuggles further into Bucky's chest, if that's even possible. He flops his weight down again, his breathing slow and heavy, and for a moment Bucky thinks he's gone back to sleep, but then he tilts his head and says, "Wanna have sex again?"

"I think I want to have sex every two hours for at least the next three days."

Steve is silent for a minute, then he replies, "That's like thirty-six times."

"Then I wanna have sex with you at least thirty-six times."

Steve huffs, warm breath against Bucky's nipple. "Make it three weeks and you've got a deal." Bucky moves his hand down to Steve's thigh, dragging it up over his own and moving Steve's dick into contact with his leg. "Mmm, didn't know we were starting already," Steve murmurs, rocking against him.

"C'mere," Bucky mumbles, getting his arm around Steve and urging him up. Steve gets a leg between his and as he shuffles in, his dick rubs up against Bucky's and they both moan softly. Bucky searches out Steve's mouth and kisses him, closed-mouthed and chaste, because the last thing he wants is to turn Steve off with his morning breath, but Steve just licks into his mouth and starts thrusting against him, hard and slow. Bucky presses his hand into the small of Steve's back and guides his movements, and wishes he had another hand free to curl his fingers into Steve's hair. It's this kind of thing that makes him regret the accident most. The only thing that really used to get him was the band, or his stunted career as a physio, but this is the worst feeling. Wanting to put two sets of fingers all over Steve and not being able to. 

"You okay?" Steve mutters, nuzzling into the stubble on his jaw. 

Bucky nods and swallows the thickness in his throat. "Yeah," he says in a rough voice. "You remember telling me how much you think about my mouth?"

Steve groans. "Uh huh."

"Why don't you tell me what you want me to do with it?"

Steve's laughter is thick and shaky. "I - I want you to lick me."

"Uh huh, where?"

"Everywhere," Steve moans, biting a patch of Bucky's neck and sucking on it. "Mm, start at the bottom and work your way up? I don't care."

Bucky can feel Steve's breath cooling his damp skin and turns his face to nuzzle against Steve's ear. "What else?"

"I want you to bite me too, I - oh, yeah -" he mutters as Bucky bites down gently on his earlobe and rolls it between his teeth, "on my thighs, and my ass, and put your tongue inside me and fuck me on your mouth, I think about that a lot."

Bucky moans and drags his teeth down Steve's jaw, gnawing over the faintest hint of stubble. "Keep going."

"And most of the time," Steve whispers, his voice uneven now, as their movements speed up, rocking into one another faster, "most of the time I just can't stop thinking about kissing you, I don't care where we are - God, Bucky, you feel so good-"

"I think about screwing you in public," Bucky whispers, making sure he's aiming it at Steve's left ear. "In a phonebox, or at the gym, in a taxi-"

That one makes Steve laugh, his body shuddering against Bucky's. "Gross, dude."

"And I wanna fuck you on the couch, and on the roof and in the Princess Bed, and then-" he pauses. "Then I want you to fuck me, and I don't care if Peggy hears it all and for all I care she can sit in the corner and eat popcorn, Steve, shit-" He groans, the pressure and the rhythm of their bodies driving him close, the heat and smell and _sounds_ of Steve ready to drive him over the edge. 

"Oh god," Steve murmurs, voice stretching out thin, "I'm gonna - I'm gonna come, I wanna-"

Bucky holds him tighter and turns to kiss Steve's open mouth, sucking on his lower lip. "Lemme feel it."

Steve whimpers, screwing his eyes shut and pushing his face into Bucky's neck as his hips go wild, stuttering against Bucky's body. Bucky feels him lose it, feels wet heat spread across his stomach and hip, feels Steve's hips spasm with effort as he slows his movements, and the _noises_ he makes. It's almost enough, almost there, but Steve has stopped moving now and he needs the pressure, he needs _something_. Steve slides off him and strokes his hand down from Bucky's throat, over his wet stomach, and wraps around his dick. 

"Gonna watch you come," he mumbles sleepily, touching Bucky in just the right place, as if he does it every day. "You're gonna come for me now." He gives Bucky's dick a rough squeeze as he jerks his wrist, and Bucky just _loses it_. He moans, loud and broken and brings his hand up to cup Steve's face, staring into his eyes as Steve pulls him over the edge. 

"Jeez, Bucky," Steve whispers as Bucky cries out and his eyes fall shut as his orgasm crashes through him. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Eyes still shut, Bucky pulls Steve closer and kisses him, soft and slow, while Steve's fingers wring him out. It's a little too much; he feels hot and oversensitive all over, but he doesn't quite want Steve to stop touching him yet.

"You good?" Steve mumbles against his mouth, and their lips make mirror smiles together. 

"I am so fucking good," Bucky says quietly, pushing his fingers up into Steve's hair and cradling his head like a precious thing. 

Steve kisses him again and giggles. "So, you really want Peggy to watch?"

"Oh, wow," Bucky says self-consciously. "I said that, didn't I?" He laughs and looks Steve in the eye, because it's kind of a joke but he also gets how important this is. "I mean, if you guys want, I'd definitely be okay with that."

Steve groans and snuggles in closer to him. "Jesus, I'm gonna fuck you so much. Quit your job, you're gonna be too busy."

"So I'm your kept man now?"

"Mm, completely."

Bucky laughs and runs his fingers through Steve's hair, stroking him like a cat. "So I'll cook for you guys and you'll buy me nice things and take care of me?"

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah, it kinda does."

Steve makes a noise in response, but it's muffled by Bucky's neck and he's not sure it was an actual word in the first place. He can feel himself beginning to drift, and if Steve's slow breathing is anything to go by, he's already gone back to sleep. Bucky shuts his eyes and lets go. 

 

 

Bucky peels himself from Steve's sticky limbs a couple of hours later and creeps to the bathroom. Steve stays fast asleep this time, finally catching up on all the late nights he's been giving himself recently, so Bucky leaves him to rest while he wanders downstairs in his sweatpants to get a glass of water. 

Peggy is sitting on the couch with her laptop out, and she looks over at Bucky as he walks in. 

"Steve still sleeping?"

"Yeah, he's pretty wiped."

"I'm not surprised," Peggy purrs, raising an eyebrow. Bucky swallows. This is it, he's definitely getting teased. But Peggy just says, "He's been working too hard."

"Oh, yeah, he has."

"So, is this an awkward one off or are you sticking around now?"

Bucky grins and flops down on the other couch. "I'm definitely sticking around."

"Glad to hear it."

"Yeah?"

"Bucky, he's completely fucking cuckoo for you. You're really good for each other."

There's not much he can do in response to that except go on grinning like a lunatic, so he does, and Peggy laughs at him kindly. "Are you hungry?"

Bucky nods fervently. "Starving."

"I'm sure you worked up quite an appetite."

"You have no idea."

"These walls aren't as thick as they look."

Bucky blushes. "Okay, you probably have _some_ idea."

"Hey, I don't mind listening if you don't mind me listening."

"I don't mind you listening," he says solemnly, and they both laugh. "Should I get Steve up?"

"Yeah, but only if you mean wake him up. I'm not feeding you two mid-coitus."

"Uh, wow, thanks for that image, Peggy."

"Anytime."

Bucky gets up, but before he heads towards the stairs, Peggy puts her laptop aside and stands up to give him a hug. It's the first time she's hugged him; she's much less tactile than Steve, and he hadn't really noticed it until now, because of course Steve would touch him if they both wanted to sleep together. But Steve is also just a tactile person, whereas Peggy is kind of reserved and most of her affection comes out in her voice or her actions. He puts his arm around her and hugs her close, and when she pulls back she kisses his cheek. 

"I'm glad you two found each other."

"Yeah, me too," he says shyly. "And - thanks, for last night."

"Just doing my duty."

"To what, the sex police?"

"Yes."

"Right, I'll let you get back to work then."

He takes the stairs two at a time, and sneaks open Steve's door a few inches. He's still sleeping, crashed out in the same place Bucky left him, his mouth slightly open and his hair making a messy crown around his head. Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed and strokes his fingers down Steve's spine, watching him shiver and roll his back at the touch. It flushes him with arousal again, and Bucky ignores his semi to lean over and nudge Steve awake. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he mutters, as he leans down to kiss Steve's forehead.

Steve groans and rolls into Bucky's body, tucking his face in one armpit. "Time is it," he mumbles.

"Almost twelve."

"What the fuck."

"I think you should listen to your body a little more often," Bucky chides him fondly, "it knows when you need sleep."

Steve hums contentedly and slides his hand inside Bucky's sweatpants, encouraging his traitorous dick. "Mm, I'm listening to it now, and it's not asking for sleep."

Bucky grabs his wrist and extricates Steve's hand before he can do any serious damage. "No," he says sternly. "We have to go have breakfast with Peggy or she's going to shout at us."

"Nah, she won't."

"She will, Steve-"

But Steve isn't listening. He leans over and pulls Bucky's sweats down in one swift movement, mouth open to catch Bucky's dick on his tongue. 

"Jesus fuck," Bucky whispers, trying to steady his hips, stunned by the onslaught. "Steve, _god_." He grabs Steve by his shoulder to hold him back, even though it nearly kills him to pull Steve off with that desperate moan he makes at having Bucky's dick removed from his mouth. "Condom?" he prompts, and Steve sighs and reaches over to grab one. He tears into with his teeth, earning a scowl from Bucky, and rolls the condom on quick and professional. "Thanks," Bucky says with a smug look.

Steve just ducks his head and sucks him down hard, pulling him all the way to arousal faster than Bucky would've thought possible, especially after this morning _and_ last night. He's had some decent blowjobs in his time, some fantastic ones even, but he's never met anyone who throws themselves into it the way Steve does, as if he lives for sucking dick. Bucky thinks about getting that printed on a t-shirt for Steve's birthday, and realizes that he doesn't even know when it is. It could be next week for all he knows. He really hopes it isn't. 

"Lie down," Steve pants, pulling off and grabbing at Bucky's hips. He rips open another condom and Bucky gets distracted when Steve bites his lip as he rolls it down his own dick. 

"We really shouldn't-" Bucky says, but his heart isn't in it, and he shuffles down the bed obediently, tugging at Steve's thigh to get him in the right place, and then Steve sinks down and his mouth is on Bucky's dick and his dick is in Bucky's mouth and everything just feels right with the world. 

And when Peggy opens the bedroom door to yell at them ten minutes later, the ensuing panicked scramble to get their clothes back on is funnier than it has any right to be. Plus they get right back to sixty-nining as soon as they've eaten their pancakes, even if Peggy warns them against exercising on a full stomach. Steve says it doesn't count as exercise if they're lying down. 

 

 

A week later, and Bucky's so used to being with Steve basically _all the time_ that when he opens his front door and finds someone else standing there, it takes him a moment to process. He laughs out loud when he sees who's waiting on the doorstep this time. 

Becca has a big duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and a shit-eating grin on her face. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he yells, reaching out to pull her into a hug. She drops the bag and hugs him back tight, and he lifts her off the ground to spin her around on the step. "Shit, it's so good to see you."

"Well somebody had to check up on you," she says as he sets her down again. "You've been on radio silence, Mom and Dad are getting worried."

Bucky frowns. "So you're, what, search and rescue?"

"No, idiot," she says, punching him. "I just wanted to see you. And also meet this new person who's been keeping you so busy."

Bucky glances away. "Meaning what?"

"Oh, bingo," she says with a grin. "I knew it, you're only like this when you're dating someone new and you literally can't think about anything else."

"Beccaaa," he whines.

"Male or female? Or neither?"

"Kinda both. Mostly male though."

Becca looks intrigued. "Trans?"

"No no, it's a guy. But there's also something going on with his housemate - ex-girlfriend, I dunno. They're basically together but they don't sleep together and they date other people."

"And here I thought you moved back to New York for a _less_ complicated life."

"It's not really that complicated with Steve," Bucky says, feeling the smile touch his mouth and finding he can't stop it. "It's actually pretty straightforward."

"Oh man, you are so in love."

"What? No." Bucky pauses and thinks about Steve, about his beautiful face with its crooked smile, big blue anime eyes, the way he can go four days without shaving before he has as much stubble as Bucky does after eight hours. "We just met," he says, frowning. "I mean, we met like five weeks – six weeks ago? That's way too soon to be in love with someone, isn't it?"

"Okay," she says, getting comfy. "First, tell me all about him. Second, invite him over so I can meet him."

"He's coming for dinner," Bucky says, shoving her foot. "He was invited."

"Perfect."

 

 

Seeing as they're now an odd number, Bucky extends the dinner invitation to Peggy as well, and is overjoyed when she agrees because he knows she's probably going to hit on Becca and it'll be hilarious to watch. 

Becca gives him a hand with the prep, while questioning him endlessly about Steve. And, by extension, Peggy. He shrugs off most of her questions without really meaning to, it's just that thinking about Steve makes him feel tongue-tied and ineloquent and the answer to every question seems to be a shrug and a, "I dunno, he's just great".

"Jeez, Buck, all I'm asking for is a few details here," Becca says, pushing aside a stack of half-chopped vegetables. "You haven't been serious about anyone since-" She hesitates. "I'm just taking an interest!"

He smiles and puts his arm around her shoulders. "And I am genuinely glad you care so much, but I really think you should just meet him and make up your own mind. I'm not exactly objective."

Becca laughs and snuggles into him for a hug. "I'm glad you found a good guy."

"Me too. Now, chop those onions already, time's ticking."

Bucky hasn't done anything even approaching a dinner party in - well, probably not ever, but Bucky likes to cook and Becca loves to host, so she talks him into jazzing it up a bit. He tries to assure her that Peggy and Steve will _not_ be expecting the works from him, but that just makes her mad. 

"Dammit, Bucky, what's wrong with impressing your boyfriend?"

"Oh, woah, we're not saying boyfriend yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Uh, because it's been like a _week_."

"That's plenty of time."

"Shut up, Becca."

"You shut up."

"Make me."

Which is how they end up going from name-calling to hair-pulling to wrestling on the floor like little kids, jabbing fingers and elbows into ticklish spots, kicking and swearing loudly. They're still going ten minutes later, breathless with giggles and curse words, when Peggy and Steve ring the doorbell. 

"I'll get it!" Becca shouts, clambering to her feet. Bucky catches her ankle and holds her back.

"No you don't," he says, pretending to scowl up at her. "Help me up, would you?" 

She rolls her eyes, because they _both_ know Bucky's plenty strong enough to get himself up, but she does it anyway, and they go to the door together, Bucky's arm slung around Becca's shoulders.

Peggy has brought wine, and Steve has brought vegan, alcohol-free wine, which is the sweetest thing anyone's done for Bucky in a while, and he lets him know it. The food takes longer than it should because of the wrestling and because they all get to talking, so by the time they actually sit down to eat, everyone except Bucky is tipsy, and he's already noticed the flirtatious looks that Peggy is giving his sister.

"Okay," Becca says once they've got their food and, apparently, more wine. She points at Steve and Bucky with her fork. "I want to know _literally everything_."  
Steve looks at him, bemused, and Bucky shrugs into the awkward silence. But just as Steve opens his mouth to answer, Peggy gets there first.

"They're really into rimming."

Steve and Becca both flush scarlet, and Bucky bursts out laughing. "Peggy's got a baby monitor in Steve's bedroom," he explains.

Becca just nods at that, but Peggy turns on him, wide-eyed with excitement. "That is genius."

" _Bucky_ ," Steve growls. "God _dammit_. What did I say about never mentioning that?"

Peggy lets out a peal of laughter and Steve elbows her. "And you're just as bad, if not worse."

"Worse," Bucky agrees. He glances at Becca, who is still looking a little shell-shocked, but seems to be happily self-medicating with more wine. "I'm sorry you had to hear the word rimming in relation to me, but you really gotta be careful how you phrase stuff with this crowd."

Becca shrugs and sets the wine bottle down, her glass now admirably full. "Hey, as long as you're using protection, my professional and personal concern ends there." She grins and nudges the bottle towards Steve with a question in her eyes. "Anyway I hear it's pretty good for your perineum. Like a workout almost."

"Okay," Peggy says, grabbing the bottle out of Steve's reach. "I like this woman."

Steve rolls his eyes at her. "Easy, tiger."

Peggy ignores him, her attention focused now on Becca. "So, are you dating anyone?"

"Not right now," Becca says, returning Peggy's flirtatious smile. Okay, it's one thing talking about rimming in front of your sister but actually _watching_ her get seduced is somehow worse. 

"Liar."

Becca glares at him. "I broke up with Russ, thanks for asking."

"Oh, sorry."

She laughs and punches his shoulder. "I'm kidding, stupid. I'm just keeping my options open. Besides, it's a different area code."

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply after you turn nineteen."

Becca ends up wheedling the pathetic (no, totally romantic) story of Steve and Bucky getting together from them a little bit at a time, though Peggy ends up telling more of it than Bucky and Steve put together. She's describing how she bullied Bucky into admitting his feelings, when Steve reaches across under the table and puts his hand on Bucky's thigh. Bucky turns his head to find Steve gazing at him with the sappiest smile imaginable, his eyes gone soft and wanting. Bucky suddenly forgets about everything else, and wants nothing more than to take Steve upstairs right away and get him naked. He puts his fork down so he can hold his hand over Steve's. 

Peggy clears her throat and Steve pulls his hand away, which seems pretty unnecessary to Bucky but there's not much he can do about it. "So, what do you have planned while you're in New York?" She glances at Bucky, and he turns an expectant look at Becca. 

"Don't look at me," he says.

Finished with her meal, Becca aligns the cutlery on her plate and sits back with her wineglass in hand like a shield. "I dunno, maybe a little sightseeing, maybe force Bucky to see his new physio."

Steve glares at him. "You're not doing your PT?"

"I'm doing it," he mutters, staring down at the table.

Becca groans, but there's not much force behind it. "It doesn't count if you do it at home."

He sighs. "I know, okay? I've got an appointment for next week." He can feel Steve's eyes on him, but he doesn't turn and look. "I'm fine, really."

"Well," Peggy says, changing the subject briskly. "We're playing tomorrow night if you both want to come along."

Bucky snaps his head up to look at her, then over to Steve. "You've got a gig? Why didn't you tell me?"

Steve shuffles uncomfortably on his chair. "It was kinda last minute. You don't have to-"

"We're coming," Bucky says, his tone firm. A quick glance at Becca. "We're going, right?"

"Of course," she says, looking at Peggy with newfound admiration. "Bucky didn't tell me you were in a band too."

"I'm gonna clear this up," Bucky says, getting to his feet. "Wanna move to the couch?"

Wordlessly, Steve gets up to help him clear the table, and Bucky bites his tongue from telling him to stop. Becca and Peggy retreat to the couch with the wine bottle without any further encouragement, and curl up in one corner chattering in low voices. In the kitchen, Bucky opens the dishwasher and starts loading it up. Steve comes in with the rest of the dishes, and leaves them on the counter in easy reach, then goes over to put the food away in the refrigerator. Bucky grabs the rest of the stack of plates and lines them up neatly inside the dishwasher, straightening up with a contented sigh when he's done. He feels Steve before he's aware of him having come closer; a warm hand sliding up his spine and rubbing over his right shoulder. 

"I like your sister," Steve says softly.

Bucky nods. "She's somethin', huh?"

Steve moves closer, pressing himself up against Bucky's back, hands sliding around to meet and cross over on his stomach. "You really wanna come tomorrow? To the gig?"

"Are you kidding?" Bucky says, laughing softly. He turns around in Steve's arms, bringing his hand up to stroke the side of his neck. He still has the faint red prickle of a hickey from two days earlier, almost unnoticeable now, unless you knew to look for it. "I can't wait to hear you sing."

"It's not a big deal," Steve mutters, not meeting Bucky's eyes. "I mean, we're just playing as a favor to some friends because their support had to drop out."

"You better not be having sex in that kitchen!" Becca yells from the next room, forcing a scowl onto Bucky's face. "I just cleaned it an hour ago!"

Steve touches his chin with thumb and forefinger. "Ignore them." 

"Come upstairs with me."

"What, now?" Steve laughs at him. 

"Yup."

Steve glances round, but they can't see Becca and Peggy from where they are. "What about your sister?"

Bucky shrugs. "She'll still be here in the morning." He moves his hand over Steve's hip, pushes up his shirt and drags his fingernails over Steve's skin. It makes him shiver, and Bucky grins as he absorbs the vibration into his own body. He takes hold of Steve's hand and leads him out into the hallway, skipping the living room.

"Are we really doing this?" Steve hisses, catching up to him at the bottom of the stairs. 

Bucky nudges him up onto the bottom step and leans in to kiss him at head height. It feels weird when he's used to bending down, but it's nice. He's starting to think he likes having Steve in charge. When Steve leans into the kiss, relaxing into it despite his reservations, he curls his arms around Bucky's neck and snuggles into him. Unable to help himself, Bucky smiles and slides his arms under Steve's butt, then hoists him into the air.

"Bucky!" Steve yelps, but he's giggling as Bucky trudges up the stairs with Steve caught up in his arms. "Put me down, you ass!"

"Have fun, boys!" Peggy yells from the other room. 

 

 

Steve takes off early the next morning to deal with his looming deadlines, and Bucky forces himself out of bed because he doesn't wanna sleep away the whole morning. Becca isn't up yet, so he goes for a quick jog, then hits his free weights. While he doesn't wear a prosthetic, he does have a special mod that allows him to lift safely. He decided pretty quickly that he wasn't going to let himself be a cripple.

Becca comes downstairs a little later and watches him for a few minutes before offering to make breakfast. Bucky takes a shower while she's in the kitchen, then he throws on some old clothes and gets down just in time. They chat about nothing for a little while; the house, the neighborhood, and Bucky helps her empty the dishwasher of last night's things when they're done.

"I wanna ask you something," Becca says eventually, with a gravitas in her tone that makes Bucky think she's been working up to it for a while. He looks at her warily.

"Okay?"

"Are you ever gonna come out to mom and dad?"

It's absolutely the last thing he expected and he can't help a derisive snort. "Becca, I'm pretty sure they know. I wasn't exactly subtle when we were teenagers."

"There's a big difference between leaving it out for them to find and actually sharing it with them because you want them to know."

Bucky sighs and picks up a cloth to wipe the table with, just for something to do with his hand. "Well, maybe I just don't care if they know or not."

"They're our parents."

"If they were interested, they would've asked by now."

Becca groans at him. "Bucky, do you have any _idea_ how hard you've made it for them?"

"So what?" he snaps back, tossing the cloth down. "I had to grow up with them, that was hard enough." 

"I really think you should tell them."

"Why?" he says, realizing as the words come out that he's practically yelling. "It's got nothing to do with them who I'm screwing, and even if it did, they don't _care_." He turns and stalks away from her, into the living room, and hears the slow footsteps as she follows him. Her voice is calm and steady and Bucky remembers, surprised as ever by how much better she is than him at keeping her cool. Maybe it's part of being a doctor. 

"Bucky," she says, firm but gentle. "That isn't true. They love you, they care about you, and they'd be relieved to hear that you're happy."

He slumps down on the couch with a heavy sigh. "I'll think about it."

"Bucky-"

"I'll _think about it_ ," he says, cutting his eyes away from her. "Steve and I only just met, I don't wanna rush anything."

"Okay. But I'm not saying you gotta take him home with you or put a ring on his finger. Maybe just - mention it to them, that you met someone."

Bucky nods. "Okay, thanks for the lecture." It's a mean thing to say, but he mixes it with a crooked smile so she knows he isn't mad. Well, not that much. The problem with Becca is that she's nearly always right; it's infuriating, but it's nice to have someone in his family who actually gives a shit. 

"So what's really happening with you and Russ?" he asks, patting the empty space beside him on the couch and turning towards her. His turn to interrogate. 

Becca shrugs as she takes a seat, curling her legs up underneath her. "I dunno. He wants to get married, I guess."

"Are you shitting me?" Bucky asks, his eyes widening. He leans in closer. "He proposed? What happened?"

She shakes her head quickly. "He hasn't said anything outright but he keeps talking about it a lot, about the future." 

She doesn't look all that happy about it, and Bucky tries to rein in his excitement. "So, what, you don't want to be with him anymore?"

"I don't know," Becca says anxiously. "I love the guy, I do. He's a big doof and I love it, but getting married? Together forever?" She inhales and blows out a shallow huff of breath. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Bucky nods and reaches out to touch her knee. He gets it. He'd always thought that, of the two of them, Becca was way more likely to be the marrying type, so while he might be a little surprised, he can totally sympathise if she says she's not. "You guys can't just go on as you are?"

Becca sighs and rubs her hand over her face, and Bucky's a little shocked to see that she looks as if she's about to cry. "He wants kids, the white picket fence." Becca laughs tearfully. "I dunno, Buck, that just isn't me."

He laughs sadly as he reaches over and pulls her into a hug, because she's right, it sure as hell isn't. They spent their teenage years going to protests and pride marches and writing letters and signing petitions and fucking poli-sci majors in their cars and busting into meat factories to liberate pigs. Neither of them have ever been the picket fence type, maybe because they were brought up behind one and they know how it goes. "So that's why you were letting Peggy drool all over you?"

Becca thumps him, hard on the shoulder. "Ass. Can't a girl be interested?" 

"Sure, but she'd eat you alive."

Becca just looks at him, waiting for the shoe to drop. "Oh, gross," Bucky says when it clicks in his head. He grins and rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'm sure she's a master. Have fun together."

"No, I'm not - I mean, hell, I wouldn't push her out of bed, but I know I need to sort this shit out with Russ."

She drops her head in her hand, and for a minute she looks so old and tired. It reminds Bucky of his mom, growing up, how she never had the energy for anything, especially not when his dad started drinking more and more. He isn't sure why he says it, but he sees Becca give him a tired smile and the words just spill out of him. "Why don't you move here?"

She frowns at him. "What, New York?"

"Why not? You could stay with me until you find a place, a job."

"Oh, Bucky, I dunno. The hospital-"

"-will manage without you. Why don't you think about it."

She laughs and reaches up to ruffle his hair with her fingertips. "You really miss me that much?"

He smiles, and it's soft and dopey the way they don't normally let themselves get - they don't normally _need_ to, because they generally know what the other is thinking. "I dunno if I would've got through the last couple of years without you, Bec."

She groans and shoves at his arm. "Don't, dude, you'll make me blush."

"No, seriously, I wanna say this," Bucky says, a little desperately, and she turns back to look at him fondly. "You really - you fucking pulled me through, okay? I dunno where I'd be now but I wouldn't be _here_ , living my life and falling in - falling for someone."

Becca ruffles his hair again, slides her hand down to his shoulder. "You're welcome, baby boy."

"Augh," he groans, laughing. "Thanks for that."

"C'mere." She laughs as she pulls him into a hug, and Bucky snuggles up under her arm even though he's way too big to lie on her. Becca wraps her arms around him and strokes through his hair gently. "You know that wasn't me though, you did all that yourself."

He huffs against her shoulder. "Yeah, well. I wouldn't have even tried if not for you." Becca rubs a circle on his back and he tries, and fails, to stifle a huge yawn. Becca giggles, and he can feel her shake underneath him. "Someone keep you up too late?"

Bucky swats at her lazily. "Shut your noise."

She goes back to stroking his hair, and Bucky closes his eyes and just lets himself relax. 

 

 

Before he knows it, he's waking up alone on the couch some time later with a crick in his neck. He can hear Becca in the kitchen, boiling the kettle to make tea, and he forces himself into a sitting position, wincing as he rubs at his neck. There are quiet voices in the kitchen, but he can't make out who it is over the sound of the kettle. He doesn't have long to wonder though, because just then Steve pops his head around the doorway, and his face lights up when he sees Bucky.

"You're awake!" he says, bounding over to him and climbing into his lap. "You looked so tired, I didn't wanna wake you up."

"What're you doing here?"

"Forgot my phone," he says, leaning down to peck him on the mouth. Bucky pulls him close and buries his nose in Steve's hair. 

"Mmm, you smell incredible."

Steve laughs and starts to pull away from him, but Bucky tightens his arms around Steve and flops back along the length of the couch, taking Steve with him. "Bucky," Steve whines, struggling against him, which might be the worst idea ever if he wants Bucky to stop. "Your _sister_."

"Doesn't give a shit," Bucky mumbles, nipping at Steve's collarbone. He slides his hand up Steve's shirt, palming between his shoulder blades. He's not entirely sure that Becca wouldn't be a bit uncomfortable if she found them making out on the couch, but he's still half asleep, and it's his damn couch anyway. Steve only puts up a token protest before he settles himself between Bucky's thighs and leans in to bite the corner of his mouth. He can hear the slow _chink ca-chink_ of a teaspoon as Becca stirs her tea in the other room. Bucky cups the back of Steve's head, little finger dipping below the collar of his shirt. "Let's do this every day," he whispers, and feels Steve smile against his mouth in response. 

"Don't you think you'd get bored?"

"Not a chance in hell."

Steve nuzzles against his cheek, letting Bucky's stubble scrape his lips. "Me neither."

"Steve!" Becca yells from the kitchen. "You want sugar?"

He pecks Bucky on the mouth again and scrambles up off the couch. "No thanks!" 

When she does walk in a minute later with their drinks, they're more or less presenting a picture of responsibility, less like horny teenagers at least. Bucky still can't get over how much he wishes he'd known Steve as a kid. Peggy showed him some pictures one day while Steve wasn't around, and Bucky cannot _believe_ he never noticed Steve around school; he was such a little cutie. Though, Bucky admits, probably not his type at the time. He had cheap, wire-framed glasses that didn't suit him, wore braces until he was seventeen, and spent most of his time in the art classroom or band rehearsal. Not to mention, Bucky was kind of a jerk in high school. He'd probably have broken Steve's heart. 

"Bucky?" Steve says, nudging him. 

"Huh?"

"Daydreaming?"

Bucky grins and leans over to nose at Steve's ear. "Thinking about you as a teenager." He glances over at Becca. "Did I tell you this little dweeb went to our school?"

"No kidding. So you guys have known each other a long time?"

Steve shakes his head. "Only by reputation. Bucky's prom fling was pretty notorious."

Becca rolls her eyes. "Jesus, yeah, Mom and Dad dragged me home from college when that happened. Whatever happened to that other kid?"

"Uh, actually last I heard he married some supermodel." Bucky grins. "Firmly back in the closet I guess."

Steve hits him. "Maybe he's bi."

"Doubt it," Bucky says with a shrug. "He used to cry with his girlfriend. Actually, the first time we had sex was when he couldn't get it up with her so he popped the cherry with me instead."

Becca groans. "And now we're back to tmi conversations about your sex life."

"You literally asked to hear about my sex life last night."

She looks at him, then at Steve too. "Yeah, and then I got to _hear_ it all night too."

Steve blushes. "Sorry, Becca. Bucky's kinda-" He glances over, and his mouth forms a smirk. "Vocal."

Bucky's too distracted swatting at Steve to notice the dangerous glint in Becca's eyes until it's too late, and she starts shooting her mouth off again, "Yeah, guess who slept in the next room from ages twelve to sixteen? Prime beating off window."

"Shit, Becca," Bucky says, pulling a face. "Let's just all agree not talk about my sex life for at least the next two days, okay?"

She shrugs, and Steve is clearly trying not to laugh, but Bucky finds he doesn't much care. Especially when Steve turns to Becca and asks, "So did you and Peggy have sex or not? She won't kiss and tell."

 

 

It turns out they didn't, but there was some making out on the couch, which just makes Bucky feel kind of violated. Steve tells him not to think about it, which is fine and all but Steve doesn't have siblings, and the closest thing he has to a sister is someone he's slept with. He takes off for the afternoon to give Bucky and Becca some sibling social time, promising as he leaves to have a word with Peggy about who she seduces from now on. 

"So," Bucky says when he and Becca are alone again. "What did you want to do today?"

She rolls her shoulders, stretching out her neck. "Well, first of all, I'm taking you to buy new clothes."

For some stupid reason, it sends a shiver of dread through him, and he answers stiffly, "I don't need new clothes."

"Your clothes are horrible." 

"They are not," Bucky says, even though they probably are. Becca doesn't even bother to argue with him, she just _stares_ at Bucky until he goes away and puts some shoes on. 

Twenty minutes later, she's bundling him into a cab despite all of his protests. "Seriously," Becca says in an exasperated tone. "You haven't bought anything new since before you moved in with me. Have a little fucking pride in your appearance."

Bucky just glares out of the window. The thing is, she's mostly right. He checked his wardrobe before they left, and his clothes are shit. Most of them are ripped, worn out or just aren't really him anymore. He hasn't had a haircut in about four months and he only remembers to shave once a week or maybe less. Bucky's really starting to wonder how the hell he ever talked Steve into bed with him. 

Luckily, Becca seems to sense that something is up, so she takes him for gross expensive coffee before they hit the mall, and Bucky complains loudly about tax dodgers and exploitative business practice until she punches him _really hard_ in his good arm. "I know you're mostly doing it for show," she hisses, "so quit it now before I punch the other one too."

Bucky sighs and accepts his latte with a small surge of guilty pleasure. "I don't remember you being so violent."

"Yeah, well, my boyfriend wants to impregnate me and lock me away in Suburbia. Excuse me if I'm a little tense."

Even Becca looks surprised at her own outburst. She purses her lips and looks away, and Bucky clears his throat. "You guys really need to talk," he says, glancing at her over the top of his takeaway cup. 

Becca clutches her own drink in both hands. "Just don't," she says. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up. Today is about us."

She looks small and sad, and Bucky slings his left arm around her shoulders and hauls her in against him. "Fine, let's get tooled up, then we can talk about you moving to New York."

"I haven't said yes to that yet."

" _Yet_."

"Shut up, Buckles."

He bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, do not ever call me that again."

"What, Buckles?"

"Uh huh, especially not in front of Steve."

Becca nods and makes an assenting noise, but ten seconds later Bucky catches her with her phone in hand and he narrows his eyes. 

"Are you texting him?

"Who?"

"Oh my god, Becca!"

Bucky gets a text from Steve approximately eight minutes later. It's a little doodle of a sleepy-looking Steve with a speech bubble reading, _Buckles?_

"I'm never gonna hear the end of that," he says, sighing as he slips his phone back into his pocket, although secretly his heart skipped a beat at that drawing. "He'll probably write a song about it."

Becca pats his arm in a mockery of offering comfort. "Come on," she says, ignoring him. "Let's go spend your money."

 

 

The mall is awful. The mall reminds Bucky why he stopped buying clothes. It's late morning and the place is _rammed_ , mostly families and kids on summer break. As soon as they walk in, Bucky feels like he's being pounded on all sides by the sound and the thick atmosphere of _people_ , like the feeling of standing under a waterfall and being totally engulfed by water. He halts, breath coming hard, and he staggers to a bench and sits down before Becca realizes he's lagged behind.

"Bucky?" she whispers, coming back and crouching down in front of him. "Bucky, you in there, honey?" He takes a quick breath and nods, once. Becca puts her hand on his knee. "You want to get out of here?"

Bucky grits his teeth and, with effort, shakes his head slowly. "No," he says tightly. "Just - didn't expect-"

Becca pulls out her phone again, and Bucky tries to tell her not to call anyone, please don't call anyone, don't tell Steve, but he seems to have used up his store of syllables and all he can do is _stare_ at her hip and hope she gets the message. She passes him the phone a moment later, and holds out her headphones to him. Bucky frowns and takes them, but when he doesn't move, she takes one of the earbuds back and holds it up to his ear.

Bucky shuts his eyes. It's Steve's voice. Steve's singing in his ear, and he reaches up to push the other earphone in. He looks down at the phone; Becca's brought up one of Peggy and Steve's songs on youtube, and he doesn't know what to say. He settles for giving her a tight smile, which she returns with a squeeze of his left shoulder. She sits down beside him and Bucky offers her one of the earbuds. They listen to the rest of the song in companionable silence, cut off from the bustle around them, and when it ends, Bucky passes her phone back. 

"Thanks," he says quietly. He doesn't say sorry for freaking out. He knows it's not allowed. Becca spent a long time drilling into him the notion that his feelings are valid, whether they're good or bad. 

"You wanna go somewhere else?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No, you're right. I need some new clothes."

"We don't have to do it today though."

"You ever seen me back down from a fight?"

Becca laughs and leans into him. "Okay, but don't punch anyone under eighteen."

 

 

The shopping trip goes pretty well after that. He picks up some jeans and some smart pants, just in case, some t-shirts, button downs, underwear etc. It's not exciting but after a while he does get that little thrill of blowing a lot of money in one go, of acquiring new _stuff_. There's a leather jacket that he admires but it's too much to justify spending along with everything else. He takes a picture in the changing room anyway and emails it to Steve. While he's lining up to pay, Steve sends him another doodle; this time it's of both of them in identical leather jackets, but Steve's is much too big and makes him look like a kid. It doesn't help that Steve draws himself looking like a twelve year old. He saves the drawing as his lock screen.

Becca takes him for a haircut next, which is maybe the most terrifying thing that's happened to Bucky in a long time. He was planning to just ask Steve or maybe Peggy to cut his hair at some point, but Becca insists and drags him to a kitschy little indie place she's heard about from a friend. 

In the afternoon they do some sightseeing, and eat a really disgusting amount of Thai food. They both resolutely do not talk about their partners, even though every little thing that happens reminds Bucky of Steve. He knows Becca wouldn't mind, but her mouth goes hard and thin every time she gets a text from Russ, and she doesn't reply to them. It's easier to talk about other stuff, like Brooklyn and how much the house has changed since they were kids. Becca tells anecdotes about her patients, and Bucky relates stories from the crisis line, because there's nobody else he feels he can burden with that. 

They don't talk about their parents either, which Bucky is grateful for. He'll deal with that one another day. 

 

 

Eventually they find their way home, laden down with bags, and Bucky flops down on the couch, still full from too much food. "Oh man. I'm beat."

"Well you've got thirty minutes, then we're leaving."

Bucky groans. Peggy and Steve's gig has been lingering in the back of his mind all day, but he's been thinking of it as permanently in the future, a thing he won't actually have to worry about for a long time. "Can't we show up late?" 

"No," Becca says sternly. "Now get your ass upstairs and get showered. We're gonna make you look cute for your boyfriend."

Reluctantly, Bucky does as he's told, mostly because he wants to wash off the itchy scraps of hair from his cut, but also because he knows Becca will find a way to punish him if not. She's already been upstairs to dump his new clothes on the bed for him, and he's just reminding himself to thank her when he spots the leather jacket spread out on top of the duvet. 

"Beccaaa!" he shouts from the top of the stairs.

"You're welcome!" she yells back.

While Bucky showers quickly and tries to put his hair into some semblance of order, Becca rings round all her New York friends to bully them into coming out to the show, then spends about five minutes getting ready only to emerge looking like a million dollars. Bucky scowls at her through his open doorway while he stands looking at the wreck of his wardrobe. 

"Bucky, we need to go!"

"I dunno what to wear."

Becca throws her hands up in the air with a groan. "You could walk in dressed in a garbage bag and Steve wouldn't even care."

Which is exactly the sort of answer Bucky should have expected. He pouts at her. "Fine, forget it."

"No, no," she says, her voice softening as she takes a few steps into his room. She picks up a pair of slim fitting, dark blue jeans, and then reaches for a tight t-shirt she insisted he buy. _Trust me_ , she'd said with a wink, _if you're gonna spend that much time working out, you need to buy this t-shirt_. 

Becca hands them over, and Bucky holds them awkwardly. "Are you sure?"

"Well we've got minus twelve minutes to get ready, so it'll have to do." She starts to hurry away, but she turns in the doorway and grins. "Wear the jacket."


	6. Chapter 6

They're only a little late, and the first support act has only played a couple of songs when they arrive, to Bucky's relief. The bar is fairly busy, and Becca almost immediately spots some friends and hurries off to say hi to them. Bucky gets himself a fruit juice and thinks about looking for Steve, but it's dark and there are so many people, so much noise, that he decides just to hover near the bar until Becca comes back. 

The musician on stage is a woman in her forties or early fifties. Her voice puts Bucky in mind of Stevie Nicks, but the music is more folksy, and it's pleasant enough if not really his thing. About halfway through her set, a young woman with big glasses and cornrows sidles up and offers to buy Bucky another drink. She looks young, probably a student, but she's pretty and Bucky can't even remember the last time someone hot just walked up to him and started hitting on him. Apart from Steve, of course. 

"I'm actually here with someone," he says with an apologetic smile. "But I'll buy you one if you just wanna chat for a while."

She raises her eyebrow at him. "Your girlfriend won't mind?"

Bucky grins at her. "No _he_ won't mind at all. He's in the band."

Her face lights up. "You mean Dead Republic or Lehigh?"

"Lehigh," Bucky says. The girl squeals with excitement, and try as he might, Bucky just can't keep his smile down.

Turns out Dolly is one of Lehigh's biggest fans. She got the bus down from Boston just to make this gig, even though Lehigh were only announced as stand-in three days earlier. She is a student, but she's a postgrad and studying Chemistry. Bucky doesn't manage to get much more out of her, because she has a million and one questions about Steve and Peggy. How long have he and Steve been dating? How did they meet? Does this mean Steve and Peggy are definitely not together, because she'd suspected that for a while? Do they really live in Brooklyn? 

Bucky tries to answer as many questions as he can without getting too personal. He doesn't have any guidelines from Steve and Peggy about what's okay to talk about and what isn't, and while he can't imagine they'd mind very much, his own desire for privacy has him holding back anything too specific or personal. He does tell her that they're neighbors and that he fell for Steve after hearing him sing. He also tells her that Peggy makes the best vegan pancakes he's ever eaten, and that Steve's even dorkier than he seems.

Becca returns just as the musician on stage finishes her set, and Bucky introduces her to Dolly. He really hopes she doesn't mention anything about them being vocal in bed. 

Bucky jumps as someone slides their arms around his waist from behind, relaxing a moment later when he recognizes Steve's touch and turns to face him. "Hey there," he says, letting himself be pulled into a kiss. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Steve nods and flashes him an impish smile. "I was never here." He pulls away again and folds back into the crowd, and Bucky quickly loses track of him behind the flock of taller heads. He turns back to find Dolly watching him with gooey eyes. 

"You guys are so cute," she says dreamily. "I can't believe I hit on _Steve Rogers' boyfriend_."

Bucky laughs self-consciously, and catches a raised eyebrow look from Becca. "Would you like to meet them?"

Dolly's jaw actually drops. Bucky's not sure he's ever seen anyone actually do that. "Are you serious? 

He swallows the urge to laugh; her face is a lovely mix of shock and delight, and all Bucky can think is, _yeah, I know, I think he's great too_. "Sure, they'd love to meet you. I can introduce you guys after their set."

Dolly looks like she might hug him, and Bucky's a little relieved when she doesn't, and instead starts battering Becca with questions about Steve and Peggy, how long she's known them etc. Luckily, they only have a couple of minutes of this, before the lights dim and Steve and Peggy walk out onto the stage. Peggy is carrying a guitar, Steve his violin, and he appears to have done the quickest change in history, because he's swapped his grungy, paint-smeared t-shirt and jeans for a checked shirt and cropped pants. They're both wearing flowers in their hair, which is simultaneously the lamest and cutest thing Bucky's ever seen. They look like a couple of woodland sprites, and he's surprised to find that it's kind of hot.

They walk to the mics without a word, then Steve lifts his violin to his shoulder, tucks it neatly under his chin, and begins to play. 

The chatter in the room falls quiet, and Steve closes his eyes to flow into the music. Bucky finds he can't look away. He realizes that Peggy has joined in with her guitar, and he catches the familiar lilt of her voice as they start to play a song he knows well. It's a newer song, but he's heard them practising it once or twice, and though he'd never tell Steve, he's been listening to Lehigh's soundcloud page constantly for the past two weeks. For a moment, he forgets that he's in a room full of people, his attention focused down to Steve's fingers shifting restlessly across the neck of his violin; his eyes closed in concentration as he plays. 

He almost jumps in surprise when Becca nudges him, and he finds her looking up with a stunned expression. _They're amazing!_ she mouths at him, and Bucky grins and nods back. Pride swells up inside him, and he spares a second to look around at the room of enraptured people, blue light shining on their faces, before he finds his gaze drawn back to Steve and Peggy. They slip from their first song into another: a soft, slow track, and Bucky's heart leaps when he recognizes it as the first song Steve ever played for him, the night they first shared a bed. He hasn't heard it translated through Steve's violin yet, and it gives the song a melancholy air that isn't there in the EP version.

At the end of the song they introduce themselves, and Steve trades out his violin for a ukelele. They start to play something, but Steve's instrument is hopelessly out of tune and everyone laughs while they have to stop and stall for him to fix it. Peggy chats to the crowd while Steve fusses over the pegs, then for a moment he glances up, and his eyes meet Bucky's. Steve's smile is warm and slow, holding him for a few seconds before he glances away again. Bucky cannot wait to kiss him. 

"Okay, looks like my glamorous assistant is finally ready," Peggy says as Steve finishes tuning and strums experimentally. He laughs and nods at her to go on. "Alright, we've got a   
new one for you now, but we only wrote it last week so please be patient with us."

They start to play, and Bucky lets out a bark of surprised laughter that makes a couple of people in front turn around to glare at him. He makes a _sorry_ gesture and puts his hand over his mouth to hide his stupid goofy smile. They wrote this song for _him._ It's a dumb, folksy little ballad about a man with one arm coming to town and causing a stir. Steve started making it up one morning while they were eating breakfast, then Peggy joined in, adding a filthy rhyme, and Bucky ended up snorting orange juice through his nose. He didn't know they'd put it to music, hasn't heard them practising, and he feels like he might burst with happiness. 

Becca nudges him again, a big smile on her face. "You like this one?" Bucky just shrugs helplessly, still grinning. 

Because of the short notice for the gig, and because the first act ran over a little, they only play a short set, which leaves the crowd cheering for more when Dead Republic finally take the stage. Bucky fidgets anxiously and flashes Becca a grateful look when she makes conversation with Dolly. 

It's not until the lights go down and the band start playing that Steve and Peggy work their way through the crowd and find him still standing near the bar. Steve grins shyly, and Bucky pulls him in for a crushing hug, pushing his face into Steve's neck and nuzzling at his hot skin. "That was incredible," he says as he pulls back. 

Steve laughs and glances over at Peggy, and Bucky wraps his arms around her too. She molds beautifully against his chest, hair tickling the side of his face. "I can't believe you played that song," he says with a laugh as she pulls away from him. Peggy rolls her eyes, but they both look pleased.

"Did you like it?" she asks, and Bucky can see the same hopeful expectation in her eyes as in Steve's.

He slings an arm round each of their shoulders. "I loved it," he says loudly, and leans in to kiss them on the temple: first Peggy, then Steve. "Right, let me get you a drink, and then I have someone who wants to meet you."

It turns out that Steve and Peggy, being the amazing people they are, recognize Dolly at once from her comments on soundcloud and twitter, and spend pretty much the entirety of Dead Republic's set chatting to her in a corner, while Bucky and Becca sit nearby and occasionally get drawn in to answer a question or settle a debate. It's nice to see them enjoying themselves and spending some quality time with a fan, but Bucky starts to get more and more restless, bouncing in his seat and tapping his fingers on his leg. 

Becca reaches over eventually and lays a hand on his knee. "You need to leave?"

"Huh?" Bucky asks, staring at her in surprise.

"You look like you're freaking out, Bucky. Should we go?"

He looks down at his hand, furiously tapping out a beat against his thigh, and he stops and lays it flat on his leg. "Oh. No, I'm okay."

She gives him a shrewd look. "Why don't you get some air? I'll hold your seat."

Bucky doesn't really feel like going outside, but he does needs to pee, so he gives in and gets to his feet. After a brief trip to the bathroom - as brief as he could make it: they're pretty gross - he wanders outside and steers away from the crowd of smokers. Ever since quitting, he can't stand the smell of it, except for one particular brand that one of his crushes smoked in college. He paces up and down for a couple of minutes, not really thinking about anything in particular, just entertaining images of Steve in his head; Steve curled up naked against him; Steve falling asleep at his piano-

"Bucky?"

Steve is walking over to him, hands in his pockets, but he takes them out when he gets close and reaches for Bucky. "Everything alright?" he asks, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with concern.

"Just antsy," Bucky says, letting Steve take his hand. He still has flowers balanced on his head, and Bucky laughs as Steve leans in to nuzzle at his chin and fake leaves tickle his nose. "Were those Peggy's idea?"

Steve winks at him. "What gave it away?" Bucky leans back slightly and Steve's brow creases. "What's up?"

"I uh-" Bucky hesitates and twitches his fingers in Steve's hand. "I wasn't sure if you'd wanna get all affectionate in front of your crowd."

With a soft huff of frustration, Steve puts his hand on Bucky's jaw and leans up to kiss him, warm and sweet. "That answer your question?"

Bucky releases his hand and catches him by the small of his back to pull him in closer. "I guess so. But what about my other question?"

"And what's that?" Steve asks breathlessly. 

"How soon can we get out of here and get naked?"

Steve groans and kisses him again. "I've gotta collect my stuff. Give me ten minutes then flag a taxi, okay?"

"Deal."

Steve walks a few steps, then he turns back with a crooked smile. "I like your hair by the way!"

Bucky goes back inside after a minute and finds Becca deep in discussion with Peggy and Dolly. She takes one look at his face and she gives him a wry smile. "Have fun, I suppose."

"You're not coming home?"

Becca shakes her head. "We're going dancing with Dolly. You go home, I'll stay at Peggy's tonight." Bucky raises his eyebrows, but she cuts him off before he can say anything. "Don't you _dare_."

He doesn't bother telling her that he wasn't going to say anything about it, just drags her under one sweaty armpit (ew, Bucky, _gross_ ), and kisses the top of her head messily. "See you in the morning," he says, grinning. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Becca waves him away, and he says a quick goodbye to Peggy and to Dolly - who gives him the biggest hug ever - before heading outside to wait for Steve. 

 

 

Bucky wakes early the next day to the sound of his spare key in the lock downstairs. He's hot and sticky, and Steve is wrapped around him like ivy. It takes a few minutes of gentle encouragement to pry him loose. Bucky pulls on a t-shirt and some underwear and creeps into the bathroom to pee before he heads downstairs. 

The house is quiet, and he can hear Becca puttering around in the kitchen. He walks into the doorway and smiles. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she says, grinning over her shoulder. "Before you ask, I didn't sleep with Peggy. Dolly, on the other hand-"

Bucky's eyebrows jump. "Really? You slept with Dolly?"

She laughs and flicks a towel at him. "Don't be an ass. Looks like wherever I stay on this street, I'm not getting any sleep."

He grabs himself a glass and fills it with water. "So, what's the plan today?"

Becca gestures to the table and takes a seat herself. Her face remembers the stern lines of being overworked and underpaid, of having too many things to worry about all at once, and Bucky wishes so much that he could make it better. "I'm sorry, I have to head back sooner than I thought." 

He nods as he takes a seat. "Work?"

"Work," she says with a nod. "A few people are sick, so we're short-staffed."

"I thought doctors weren't allowed to get sick." He reaches out for her hand and squeezes it, forces a smile. "Come back soon, okay?"

Becca bites her lip, and stares at her tea. "I was thinking about what you said before, about coming to stay for a while. Did you really mean that?"

"Of course," Bucky says at once. "We help each other out, you know that."

She gives him a wobbly, grateful smile. "Thanks, Buck."

He shuffles around to put his arm around her. "Keep in touch, okay? And hang onto the key. If you need to stay, the place is yours."

Becca laughs bitterly. "God, I haven't even talked to him yet and I'm already planning to leave."

Bucky shrugs. "Sometimes you just know."

"Yeah." She takes a deep, shuddering breath and runs her hands through her hair. "Okay, I'd better pack." She puts her arms around him and gives him a brief, tight squeeze. "Say goodbye to Steve for me?"

"I can wake him up-"

"No, no. Let him sleep. He looks like he needs it."

 

 

As soon as Becca's gone, Bucky feels flat and useless. The last time they parted he didn't really have space to think about it, caught up in the stress of moving house. Now he can feel her absence like a - well, like a missing limb. 

Steve comes downstairs in just his underwear and one of Bucky's hoodies, and quietly sits down beside him on the back step. Bucky's been sitting and staring at out his trampled, overgrown yard for about half an hour, and he realizes he's started to shiver but he still doesn't feel much like moving. 

"Morning," Steve says gently, leaning in to rest his head on Bucky's shoulder. "Missed you." Bucky moves his arm around Steve's back, letting him lean in closer. They sit in silence for another minute or two, and Steve moves his cold toes over to cover Bucky's. "Becca left then?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, and pushes his fingers into Steve's hair to rub at his scalp. Steve makes a small contented noise and pushes back. 

He sighs against Bucky's neck. "You okay?"

"Just missing her, I guess."

"I like her a lot," Steve says, putting one of his hands over Bucky's knee. Unlike his feet, it's warm and comforting, and Bucky pulls him closer. 

"She liked you too."

"Thank god," Steve says, laughing. He touches Bucky's nose with the tip of one finger. "You're a lot alike."

Bucky nods. "I guess. We stuck together growing up. Kinda had to." He breaks off, but Steve doesn't say anything. His other hand comes up behind Bucky and rubs at his back gently, soft circles on his lower back, tracing up his spine. He won't ask, because Steve never pushes when he shouldn't, but Bucky feels like maybe he could talk about it. He takes a deep breath. "My dad's a recovering alcoholic. When we were kids, he used to get drunk a lot. I told you he was in the military, right?"

Steve nods, and brings his hand up to rub Bucky's left shoulder. 

"Yeah, well, there was one tour he didn't handle so well, and after that the drinking got worse. He never-" Bucky loses his place, has to take a sudden breath, "he never hit us, not exactly, but he'd get scary, throw us around a bit. Mostly me, but Becca too because she was older and she'd try to step in the way." Bucky closes his eyes, because he can _feel_ Steve's gaze on him and he can't see it, he can't look around, not now. "He never hit me, but he hurt me in other ways. He'd fly off the handle if we did the slightest thing wrong, and then he'd spank me so hard I couldn't sit down for two days. One time I smashed a vase, a real nice one my mom had since they got married, and he went crazy. He chased me out of the house, and all I could think about was running, that I had to get away because I knew he was going to hurt me. I ran into the road just as he caught up with me, and he hauled me back from the path of a truck. Dislocated my shoulder." Bucky sighs and puts his head down on his knee, cushioned on Steve's hand. Steve rubs his shoulder some more, and reaches up to stroke the back of his neck.

"Bucky," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah well, it brought him to his senses. My mom practically killed him for that one, and he got himself on track, got in a program. Never hurt either one of us again." 

"He ever hurt your mom?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. He just didn't know how to have kids around, didn't have the patience for our bullshit." He smirks. "And we were a pair of little bastards."

"That's no excuse to hurt your own fucking kids," Steve says tightly. 

Bucky leans into him. "No, it's not."

Steve tilts his head up and kisses the side of Bucky's neck, then mouths over his earlobe and scrapes at the stubble on his jaw. "Bucky," he murmurs, soft and loving. "Bucky, Bucky."

"Worried you're gonna forget my name?" Bucky laughs, and turns his head for a kiss. It's slow but passionate, and Steve's breath smells probably almost as bad as his but it's nice, it's familiar. 

Steve stops kissing him and just holds his face close to Bucky's. "I'm fucking freezing," he says quietly. "Let's go to bed."

"I thought you had work to do."

"It can wait," Steve says quietly. "Right now I need to hug you."

They lock up the house and Steve makes himself comfortable in the Ridiculous Princess Bed while Bucky trails around picking up discarded clothes and folding them over a chair. He's kind of let it all pile up for a few days, and it's comforting to put the space back in order. Steve is irresolutely messy, neither throwing his heart into making a mess or cleaning it up, so he doesn't complain, just picks up one of Bucky's books and starts flicking through it. 

Bucky is trying to shove all of his clothes into the wardrobe when he hears Steve's muffled laugh, and he turns to find him with his head behind the pillows. 

"Check out all these hooks and things!" Steve shouts in a gleeful tone. "You could have some seriously kinky sex in this bed."

Bucky tries not to laugh. He does. He really tries. "Steve."

"Yeah?"

"Dugan put those on for me."

"Oh," Steve says, sitting back on his heels and looking over at Bucky. "Oh, _awesome_."

He smirks. "You like being tied up?"

" _Always_ wanted to try."

Bucky grins. "Need to pick up some rope, but yeah, we can do. Bit slower at tying knots than I used to be though," he says with a rueful smile. 

"I don't mind waiting." Steve reaches out and Bucky comes closer so Steve can stroke his arm. "Also, I have handcuffs."

"Wow, you are really keen to try this, huh?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean, if you want."

Bucky moves into his space, kneeling in front of Steve on the bed and wrapping his arms around his waist. "I want you any way I can have you," he says in a low voice, tucking the words into the shell of Steve's good ear, where he can't miss them. Steve makes a soft, contented noise in his throat, all the urgency bleeding out of him as he relaxes in Bucky's arms. They make out leisurely, and soon enough they're rutting against each other in their clothes. To whet their appetites for later, Bucky waits until Steve is getting close, then he pulls Steve on top of him, and holds both his arms above his head in his one hand.

"You're gonna come for me," he mutters in a low, filthy voice. "You're gonna rub yourself off on me until you come, and I'm not gonna touch you." 

Steve whimpers loudly, and it takes him all of about twenty seconds before he crashes with a quiet moan, tucking his face down in Bucky's neck while he shudders and smears his spunk all over Bucky's stomach. He moans and tries to wrench his arms free, wriggling against Bucky like a worm on a hook.

Bucky releases him when the first rush is over, and Steve just flops on him tiredly. "Gimme a minute," he mumbles happily, "then I'm gonna blow your brains out."

"We need to work on your dirty talk," Bucky mutters, cradling him close and kissing his cheekbone. Because _that_ will be such a trial.

"Fuck you. I'd take it back, but I really wanna suck your dick."

"Anytime."

Steve huffs and Bucky runs his fingers through the damp hair on his neck. "Be careful what you wish for," Steve mumbles.

 

 

Steve is, unfortunately, as good as his word.

The next day they go by a sex shop to pick up some rope and - other bits and pieces, and Steve lasts about five minutes in there before he comes over and drags Bucky out by the lapel of his jacket. 

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky hisses, when Steve pushes him into a dirty alleyway a block away and drops to his knees. "The sex shop. That's what gets you going."

"No, you do," Steve mutters by way of explanation. "I looked at a book about fellatio and all I could think about was your dick, my mouth, right now."

"Oh," is all Bucky can say to that, as Steve swallows him deep, and he really feels like they ought to talk about condoms but Steve is sucking him intently, fingers working the base of his dick too, and all Bucky can say is _oh_ until he comes three minutes later, hauling Steve's head away with brutal fingers in his hair, and watching as his spunk pulses all over Steve's panting lips. 

Steve wipes his face on his sleeve and gets to his feet. "You didn't have to do that," he says mutinously. "I wanted to-"

"Steve, listen." Bucky puts his hand on Steve's cheek and kisses soft and sweet, licking the taste of spunk off his mouth. "That was fucking incredible, really, but we need - we gotta have a talk about boundaries, okay?"

At once, Steve looks both terrified and confused, and even if he's not sure _why_ , Bucky knows he's hit a raw nerve. 

"Did I - did you not want that?" Steve whispers, eyes wide and fearful. "I'm sorry, Bucky, I-"

"Shh, take a breath. I would _always_ tell you if I didn't want something, okay? You don't need to worry about that. I just think if you're gonna start blowing me in plague-ridden alleyways and with no condom, maybe we need to talk about that."

Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly. "Okay, yeah, I'm sorry. You wanna grab a coffee?"

They find the nearest place to get coffee that isn't Starbucks, and Bucky gets his serious face on. He runs his fingers awkwardly through his hair. "Steve, I really like you."

"Yeah I like you too." Steve smirks at him. "Sap."

"Shut up, dude, I'm not good at this." Bucky runs his fingers through his hair again. "I - I really wanna be with you, and I - I'm not sure how to explain this right, but I _just_ wanna be with you."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Bucky holds his hand up to shush him. "Hold on, because I need to make it clear I don't wanna stop you having fun with Peggy, or - whoever really, I am one hundred percent okay with the poly thing. I just want you. I-" _love you_ , he thinks, but his brain freezes up and instead he finishes with a lame, "I really like you."

Steve stares at him. "Damn, you _are_ bad at this."

"Shut up."

"No, no." Steve reaches for him. "I - want to exclusively date you non-exclusively too." Bucky laughs and tangles their fingers together, and Steve wraps his other hand around both of theirs. "I went for a - uh, you know, an STD test last week. And I know _you_ haven't been getting any."

"Hey!"

"Which is a _crime_ that I'm remedying one day at a time but the point still stands. I _trust_ you, Buck. I - I _really_ like you too, and I want to be able to do everything with you." He licks his lips. "I, I wanna ride you bare and swallow your spunk and put my tongue in your ass because _that turns me on_." 

Bucky laughs and glances around to check if anyone heard that, because apparently Steve doesn't feel the need to lower his voice in public when talking about spunk. "Sorry," Steve says, grinning. "Anyway, my point is, we'll be smart, okay? Talk it out if we want to hook up with someone, always always use a condom outside of us two, and get tested every couple of months just to be sure."

"Shit, you should be in disaster planning."

"No no, my organizational skills begin and end with your dick."

Bucky lifts Steve's hand and kisses the middle of his palm. "Okay, then what's on the schedule for this afternoon?"

"First rope, then Princess Bed."

"You got it."

 

 

Steve really does have to get some work done after that, and Bucky has a couple of night shifts scheduled in. He knows he's going to have to make a real effort at looking for something more permanent soon, something with daylight hours at least, but he likes coming in from a long night to climb in bed with Steve, still dozing after a late night of illustration. He likes waking up in the afternoon to the smell of Peggy cooking and the sound of Steve composing on the piano or the guitar downstairs. He likes spending every spare moment, which right now is most of them, with Steve. 

He gets up one afternoon to find Steve has locked himself away in his studio to paint. The sign on the door says _Do not disturb unless Buck naked_ , which makes him grin and roll his eyes, but he wants to let Steve work so he heads downstairs instead. He's intending to go home and maybe get some decorating done or work out for a while, but Peggy gives him a desperate look from the couch when he walks in.

"You're up!" she says, bursting into a smile.

"Uh, hi, Peggy. Nice to see you too."

She snaps shut her laptop and puts it aside. "I'm about to lose my mind. Want to go somewhere?"

"Sure," he says with an easy smile. He hasn't had a chance to spend that much time with Peggy. Usually it's him and Steve, or him and Steve and Peggy. The times he does talk to her are usually snatched moments when Steve is sleeping or busy, a quick chat over a cup of tea in the kitchen, a whispered conversation over Steve's head while he sleeps on the couch with his head in Bucky's lap. "I actually have a thing this afternoon, if you wanna come along?"

Peggy shrugs. "I don't even care as long as I'm out of this house for a couple of hours. What is it?"

"Wanna go get a tattoo with me?"

Peggy's face lights up. "Fuck yes." She leaps up and begins hunting for her shoes right away. "Where are we going? What are you getting?"

Bucky laughs self-consciously. "It's maybe a little dumb."

 

 

Peggy, god bless her, does not think his tattoo is dumb. When he first shows her the design she does go quiet and soft-eyed and reaches out to hold the drawing in reverent fingers. Most important of all, she does not tell him it's way too fucking soon, even if it is. "Steve did this."

He nods, embarrassed but proud. It's not exactly the same as the print Steve did, the one hanging on the wall of their den, but it's unmistakably inspired by it. Marcus, his stand-in tattoo artist while Morita is away, has changed the flight of the birds to follow the shape of Bucky's ribcage, drawing the murmuration along the side of his chest. 

"What's it about for you?" Peggy asks as they sit in the waiting area, sipping at their takeaway drinks. Apparently the previous appointment ran over a little, but Bucky's grateful for the excuse to chat to Peggy a little longer anyway. "Getting a tattoo, I mean."

Bucky frowns. "I guess - it's about taking control of my body, what it looks like, what it feels like. When it hurts."

"Is it about your arm?"

He shakes his head and pulls at his bottom lip, finding a way to explain. "I guess, but that's just a part of it. Actually I didn't get a new tattoo for a long time after the accident."

"What changed your mind?"

He smiles. "A combination of Becca and my therapist. They both thought I needed to change something about myself physically, to move on from having had something changed _for_ me."

"That makes sense," Peggy says with a steady expression. She's waiting for him to elaborate. Bucky can't help wondering if Steve learned his listening skills from Peggy; she's a master at getting people to talk.

"Plus I punched my ex-boyfriend, broke his jaw. That helped a little."

"Should I be concerned?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she sips at her drink.

"No," Bucky says firmly. "I've never hit anyone since, and he had it coming and more." He sighs. "I'm not - I'm _really_ not proud of it, but feeling that ashamed, feeling I'd sunk to his level, that helped me pull myself back up."

Peggy reaches over to touch his wrist gently. "I trust you." She tilts the corner of her mouth. "Most importantly, I trust you with Steve."

"So you believe I won't break his heart?"

"We all have our hearts broken by the person we love. As long as we know they really love us back, it's worth it."

Bucky appreciates the sentiment, but it's familiar somehow, and he furrows his eyebrows as he runs it through his head again. "Wait, isn't that from one of your songs?"

"Damn," Peggy says, smirking. "It sounded so good as well."

"It's not bad," Bucky admits, leaning back in his chair, "but I prefer your early stuff."

Peggy laughs loudly. "You tosser."

"That's English for devilishly handsome fellow, right?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"When are you guys going to make another album, anyway?"

Peggy pushes her bangs back off her forehead with a careless gesture, pushing out a rush of breath. "I don't know, we've both been so busy. And I mean this in the nicest way, but you're hardly conducive to Steve having a lot of free time to write."

"Then he can do it when I'm there," Bucky says with a shrug. "I'll make sure he does."

"Maybe you should. The music he _has_ written since meeting you-" she pauses with an inward smile, goes on in a quiet voice, "it's really good."

"I doubt that's my influence."

"No, it is, you give him confidence."

Bucky's never thought of Steve as lacking confidence, but as he thinks about it, it does begin to make sense. Maybe Steve does believe in himself more when Bucky's around. "Yeah," he says reluctantly. "Maybe."

Peggy says nothing, but her eyes say it all. 

"Tell me about how you guys met," Bucky says, to keep her talking and keep the focus off _him_ for a while. Peggy's kind of a master at not talking about herself. 

She smiles at the memory and settles back in her chair to tell the story. She's obviously told this one a lot, and Bucky's kind of surprised he hasn't thought to ask before now. He knows they met in the North of England, but that's about it. For all they live in each other's pockets, Steve and Peggy are surprisingly closed-mouthed about their romantic history.   
"Steve was working in Cumbria for the summer, studying endangered bird populations. I was 'finding myself'-" she adds air quotes here, though Bucky is still enraptured by the idea of Steve going halfway round the world to help conserve some birds, and kind of stunned that he's never mentioned it, "-in a cottage with an alcoholic boyfriend and a guitar."

"We seem to know a lot of alcoholics," Bucky says with a sad smile. 

"Sign of getting old," Peggy says with half a shrug. "Everyone you know either gets it together or falls apart. They forget how to balance in the middle." 

Bucky nods sadly, and Peggy keeps talking. 

"Anyway, one day we had a big fight, and I was out walking on the beach with my guitar in the pouring rain, feeling like I was in bloody Wuthering Heights or something. And there was absolutely nobody there, except this skinny little guy in a raincoat, which he swapped me for the guitar." She smiles indulgently. "And the rest, as they say."

It makes him smile too, because Bucky can just imagine a weedy little teenage version of Steve approaching this beautiful drowned rat of a girl, knowing she probably won't give him a second glance and just hoping to make her day a little bit better. "Tell me he played you a song in the rain," he says, turning his takeaway cup in his fingers. "I bet he made one right up on the spot." He's only half-serious, but Peggy jerks her head up, surprised. 

"Did he tell you that?"

"No, just seemed like a Steve way to introduce himself."

Peggy nods slowly, and she gives him a flustered smile. "We never tell people that part. It takes away the romance if you share it."

"I'm sorry."

"No," she says, with a strange, faraway look. "If someone knows, I'm glad it's you. He really didn't tell you?"

"He really didn't." Bucky laughs. "I can't believe that's true."

Peggy rolls her eyes. "You two really are stupid for each other, aren't you?"

Bucky decides he's gonna leave that one _well_ alone. "So, were you guys always polyamorous?" 

In one graceful movement, Peggy uncrosses her legs and shrugs. "I think we were always better at being friends than lovers. When we grew up a bit and realized we didn't need the latter from each other as much anymore, we decided to be the former as hard as we could." She smiles. "But yes, I suppose we were poly from the start. We always knew we needed something more than just each other. I think it's healthier not to expect everything from one person."

Bucky inclines his head. "Hit the nail on the head."

"So, we've never discussed this officially," Peggy says, a playful tone creeping into her voice, "but I suppose you're poly too?"

Bucky smothers a laugh against his wrist. "Official as in hearing it from me instead of Steve?" She nods, grinning wickedly. "Well, yeah, I have been. Not so much recently because I can count the number of times I got laid in the past year on one hand, which is just as well. And right now I'm only interested in Steve. And you." He grins. "But mostly Steve."

"Thank you, I think."

The receptionist comes over with a big smile and tells Bucky that they're ready for him, and he gets to his feet with a mix of anxiety and excitement in his belly. 

"Bucky?" Peggy's voice calls from behind him.

"Uh huh?"

"When are you going to tell Steve you're in love with him?"

He's feeling brave, so he says, "Isn't getting a tattoo enough?" and turns to poke his tongue out at her. Peggy rolls her eyes and snaps open her magazine. 

 

 

Bucky is really stupidly nervous about letting Steve see his new tattoo. He manages to avoid it for a whole day and night because they both have to work, and he sleeps in his own bed the next day so that a whole twenty-four hours have gone by before Steve actually gets his eyes on it, and Bucky has plenty of time to worry about whether he's made a really stupid decision. He peels off the sticky bandage when he gets up and rinses off his skin gently under the shower. The worst part, he decides right away, is that he can't have a bath just yet. Which sucks, because although it's a tight squeeze, taking a bath with Steve is one of his favourite pastimes. He wanders around his room while the skin dries, glancing over at Steve's empty room across the street. Eventually, just as he's tentatively rubbing some lotion over it, his phone rings. It's Steve.

"I can see you prancing about in front of your window," Steve says as soon as he answers. "And if I can see it, so can the whole street."

"They're paying me for a show."

Steve snorts. "I'm coming over, asshat."

He hangs up, and Bucky swears and rummages in his wardrobe for something clean to put on. He finds a loose college hoodie, which seems to be the only one Steve hasn't run off with already, and pulls it on along with a pair of boxers. He's barely got them on when Steve rings the doorbell. 

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he grumbles as he hurries downstairs. Steve is still ringing the doorbell. "Alright already!"

He throws open the door and lets out a surprised whuff of air when Steve jumps right into his arms, hugging him tight. He squeezes Bucky's ribcage, making him wince. "Jesus, take it easy," Bucky mutters, peeling him off. "You're gonna fuck with my war wounds."

Steve pulls back with a frightened look in his eyes. "What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself? What happened?"

Bucky laughs and grabs his shoulder reassuringly. "Chill, dude. I, uh. I got a new tattoo, that's all."

"You asshole," Steve says, his face crumpling into a scowl. "Don't scare me like that."

Grinning, Bucky slides his arm up around Steve's shoulder and drags him inside. "How's work?"

"Nuh uh, I wanna see this tattoo."

Bucky pulls a face. "I'd kinda rather you see it when it's healed."

Steve glances down at his chest, then back up to Bucky's face. "Yeah, no way," he says, eyes going hard. "No way am I waiting a whole month for you to get your shirt off again."

"Steve-"

"Take it off."

"Shit, have you been this pushy the whole time and I just didn't notice?"

"Yup."

"You've been distracting me with sex."

"Yup."

"Steve-"

"Oh my god, Bucky, take it off already!" Steve's fingers dart out to tug at the edge of Bucky's hoodie, and he groans and flicks Steve away with his hand. "Quit it!"

Steve pouts his lips. "I wanna seeee," he whines.

"I'll show you, if you quit complaining."

With a heavy sigh, Steve backs off a step, giving Bucky _just_ enough room to pull his hoodie up with his right hand. Steve gasps when he sees it, fingers reaching out to touch though they stop just short of Bucky's skin. "Oh, wow," he breathes, ducking his head to get a closer look. He grabs the hoodie from Bucky's fingers and rolls it up higher, pulling it up over Bucky's head and dropping it on the floor beside them. "Bucky," he murmurs, putting his hands lightly either side of the reddened skin and turning him gently. "It's _beautiful_."

"You really like it?" he asks, voice betraying his anxiety. 

For answer, Steve leans in and presses his lips to Bucky's chest, just below his left nipple and just to the right of one of the wheeling birds. He moves down slowly, tracing around the edge of the scarred skin, fingers sliding across Bucky's stomach. 

"Steve?" Bucky whispers, and Steve jumps up to kiss his face, nuzzling along his jaw and under his left ear. 

"I love it," Steve murmurs, "you stupid jerk. It's from my print, isn't it? God, you're ridiculous, I love it."

 _I love you_ , Bucky thinks, and bites his tongue. Steve kisses him, and Bucky thinks _I love you_ as he opens his mouth and _I love you_ as he tastes Steve's tongue and _I love you_ as they drag each other to the floor without even making it to the couch.


	7. Chapter 7

Truth is, Bucky's already told Steve he loves him. He told him the eleventh or twelfth time they had sex, when they'd been dating less than a week. They were both hot and fucked out, and Steve was snuggled up in the crook of Bucky's shoulder, not quite asleep yet, but not awake either. It didn't take him long to discover that, if he's not careful, sex is like a power cut for Steve. Usually he lurches through late nights with cups of lukewarm coffee and eyes staring in the blue light from his computer screen. Bucky has already introduced him to fluxx, baths at bedtime and blowjobs in his pyjamas, after which Bucky tucks him in with a kiss and Steve just goes out like a light. 

So there they were, Bucky holding his dorky, new best friend in his arms and wondering how he got so damn lucky, and then he put his mouth against Steve's right ear and kissed it softly, before whispering _I love you_.

Steve opened a sleepy eye and looked up at him contentedly. "D'you say somethin'?" he mumbled. "'s my bad ear."

"Nah," Bucky said louder, kissing his eyebrow. "Nothing."

The trouble is that he _hates_ 'I love you'. It's not just that it's a cliché: it doesn't even begin to encapsulate the way he feels about Steve. The way he feels when Steve plays for him, like he's floating and falling and coming apart inside. The way Steve always brushes his teeth if he's eaten bacon so Bucky doesn't have to kiss him with meat breath. The way he cries without fail at underdog movies and pretends he hasn't, because Steve always roots for the little guy.

It's these things and it's his eyes without his glasses, his voice when he has a cold, the way he gives head like there's nothing else he'd rather be doing ever, how much he loves Peggy, how generous he is with everything, every frickin' day. Bucky doesn't even know how to _begin_ telling Steve how much he loves all of that. 

 

 

The next time he tries, Steve is sick. Really sick. He normally gets a flu vac every year, but it's only September so he hasn't done it yet, and, of course, he catches flu. He's probably the only person in New York with flu in the first week of September, like some kind of immaculate infection. 

Peggy is away visiting her family for a month, and it's Bucky's first weekend staying over in her absence when Steve starts complaining about a headache. It's not unusual in itself; Steve gets days' worth of headaches sometimes, a calling card from his meningitis apparently, but this is different. He's weak and sluggish from the moment they wake up, and he keeps asking Bucky to bring him glasses of water and juice. Him asking is unusual enough, because Steve doesn't like to make anyone do anything for him. 

By evening, Steve's pale and shaky, and Bucky has checked him all over for rashes at least three times because no fucking way is Steve gonna have a meningitis relapse on _his_ watch. He reads through a dozen different pages of symptoms online, in between force-feeding Steve paracetamol and tea and cramming him back under the blankets every five minutes. 

Eventually Steve throws his duvet off with enough force that it lands on the coffee table and drags the full teapot onto the floor, spilling the contents all over the rug and Bucky's legs. Bucky swears and scrambles out of his sweatpants, grateful that the tea had cooled down enough to sting rather than scald. 

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, looking small and miserable when Bucky turns to glare at him. "Are you okay?"

Bucky sighs and crouches down beside the couch. He pushes the sweaty hair back off Steve's forehead and kisses his hot brow. "I'm fine, but you need to stay in those blankets. You've got a bad fever."

"Too hot."

"I'll open the window, hang on."

Bucky does so, then goes to fetch a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and makes up a cold compress with a flannel. When he gets back a couple of minutes later, Steve is lying on his back, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. His chest doesn't seem to be moving. For one horrible moment, Bucky almost starts screaming, but then Steve blinks and licks his lips, and rolls his head around to face Bucky. 

"Hey," he croaks. "Where'd you go?"

Bucky takes a deep breath. "Brought you a present," he says, handing Steve the bag of peas wrapped in a pillowcase. Steve smiles faintly and tugs it close to his chest like a teddy bear. Bucky spreads the blankets over him again, and Steve doesn't complain this time. He presses his hand to Steve's forehead again, but Steve jerks away. "Fine," Bucky says with a smirk, reaching down for the bowl and the compress. He wrings out the flannel and presses it against Steve's forehead. 

"Ohhhh," Steve moans gently, turning back into his touch. Bucky smoothes it over his face and neck, and down to the triangle of sticky chest peeking out from Steve's v-neck t-shirt.

"That feel good?"

Steve nods, making little mewling noises in his throat. Bucky takes hold of Steve's hands and wipes the clammy, stickiness of them, then he just holds one in his lap and strokes it gently until Steve eventually falls asleep. It's tempting to let him stay on the couch, but Bucky wants him to get a good, comfortable night's sleep. It takes a bit of careful maneuvering, but he manages to get Steve upright enough to put him over his shoulder, and he hauls him upstairs in a fireman's lift. 

It's like picking up a little kid, the way they fall asleep and stay asleep until they're done. Steve's so out of it, he barely even makes a sound until Bucky gets him settled in bed, and his eyes open a crack. "Go to sleep," Bucky whispers, kissing his cheek. He takes Steve's pulse and his temperature again, just to be safe. He's okay for the moment, but definitely still on the decline, and Bucky knows he's not gonna get much sleep. He calls Becca.

"Hey," she says sleepily, "how's it going?"

"Hey, I need some advice."

She yawns and laughs at the same time. "Is it medical? It better not be medical. I just got off a fourteen hour shift."

"I am so sorry and I love you so much."

Becca snorts, unimpressed but tolerant, as ever. "Okay, I'll make some coffee. Shoot. Unless it's about STDs, then just go see a doctor in New York."

"No, it's not me, it's Steve. He's real sick. I'm really worried about him."

"Okay," Becca says in her soothing big sister voice. "Talk me through it."

Bucky reads Steve's symptom off the list he's been keeping in his head since Steve starting getting sick, adding each one as it appears and crossing off any that go. So far that's none. Becca asks him a few questions, and makes quiet noises to show she's listening and hearing his concern. 

"Okay, Bucky, are you listening?"

"Yup."

"He's gonna be fine."

Bucky lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "Are you sure?"

"Keep an eye on his temperature and his breathing, and keep him warm and hydrated. If he changes color, has any difficulty breathing at all, or his temperature goes too high, you call 911, okay?"

"Okay."

"Relax, honey, he's gonna be fine." Bucky can hear the affection in her voice, even though she's exhausted, and it calms him a little. "Especially with you looking after him."

"Thanks, Becca."

"Don't thank me, just get yourself some rest. How are you, anyway?"

Bucky hesitates before he answers. In the silence, he listens to Steve's heavy breathing and shuts his eyes. "I think I'm in love with him."

"Oh, yeah," Becca says gently. "You're definitely in love with him."

"He's just-" Bucky just shrugs, lost for words. "Yeah."

"You should tell him."

Bucky looks round. Steve is curled on his side, one hand pressed up near his face, his eyelids dark and bruised-looking. He looks small and weak, like a child, and Bucky leans over to pull the blankets up a few inches. "Hey Stevie," he whispers, bending down to kiss his cheek. "You're incredible, and I'm in love with you."

On the other end of the phone, Becca makes a little noise of delight. "Tell me he heard that," she says sternly. "He better not be asleep right now."

"I'll tell him again tomorrow."

Becca groans. "You're hopeless. Goodnight little brother."

"Night sis."

 

 

Three days pass, and Bucky does not tell Steve that he's in love with him. Not in so many words. He helps him to the bathroom, reads to him and agrees to watch awful, terrible movies so that Steve can fall asleep in his lap. He washes Steve's hair in the bath, forces him to eat soup when he isn't hungry, and brings him more pills every four to six hours. He even pretends to be Steve's personal assistant on the phone and charms all his clients into giving him an extension on his projects. And even though it makes him feel bad, he cancels his shifts at the crisis center so he can stay and take care of Steve. They tell him not to worry.

Steve's way more lucid by day five, and Bucky finally manages to sleep for more than four hours, relaxing from his vigil over the bed. He's been on a hair trigger to dial emergency services at the slightest hint of trouble, not that he'll ever admit it to Steve, who would only sigh and pout and complain that he's not that sick and Bucky shouldn't have to worry.   
"Hey, Bucky?"

"Uh huh."

"When I was feverish on Sunday, you looked after me, right? You stayed the whole time."

Bucky nods. "Of course I did."

"I had a dream about you, I think."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You told me something really good about us."

"What was that?" Bucky asks, aiming for casual, though his heart is choking him. 

Steve lays back on his pillows and smiles at the ceiling. "I don't remember, I just know it was good."

"I'm glad to hear it."

They snuggle up to watch a movie, again, and Bucky is just nodding off when Steve sticks a hand down his sweatpants and grabs his dick. 

"Hey," he says, blinking awake. "Wow, okay, hi."

Steve shifts up and starts kissing Bucky's neck, scraping with his teeth impatiently. "Mm, want you," he murmurs. 

"Jeez, someone's feeling better." Bucky puts his hand over Steve's to still his movements - it's nice, but Bucky's just not really in the mood quite yet - and cradles Steve's head in his hand to kiss him. "And I know you can't smell anything, but I promise you, we both stink."

"Shower then," Steve says with a shrug, tugging on Bucky's lip ring with his teeth. "I want you to fuck me, Bucky," he adds in his whiniest voice, which irritates the hell out of Bucky because he finds it so irresistible. 

He puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and pins him down on the bed. "No," he says sternly, "you need rest."

"Nooo," Steve groans in protest, "Bucky, I'm _dying_."

"No you're not." He strokes Steve's cheek and laughs when Steve turns his head away. "I don't want you falling down in the shower is all," he says gently. "Wait two minutes and I'll run a bath."

Steve's bad mood melts and he turns a delighted grin up at Bucky. "You're officially the best boyfriend ever."

Bucky feels the breath catch in his throat. And he doesn't know why. It's stupid, because they've been dating for about two months and people have fallen in love in less time (Bucky thinks he fell in love with Steve the first time he heard him play the piano, which was all of about four days after meeting him, so, y'no). 

"You want me to be your boyfriend?" he asks, cracking a smile for Steve. He sees the confusion curve Steve's eyebrows, and he pushes on before Steve can get the wrong idea. "Because I'm okay with that. I'm really okay with that."

Steve reaches up for him and Bucky leans in and kisses his gross mouth, with tongues even, because he's only gone and got himself the most beautiful, talented boyfriend in all of Brooklyn, even if he _does_ stink of sweaty pits and taste like cough sweets. 

"Okay, boyfriend," Steve says, flopping back onto the sheets. "Wash me, because I need to fuck you asap."

Bucky ruffles Steve's sticky hair, and goes off to run the bath. He lets Steve lie back against him and rubs shampoo through his hair with careful fingers, then rubs the ache out of his shoulders until Steve is sleepy and pliable against him. They have the slowest, gentlest sex they've had yet; lazy fingertips and lingering kisses in the dark. Just when he thinks they're both too sleepy to keep going, Steve kisses him long and deep, his tongue moving glacier slow and his fingers tightening in Bucky's hair, and Bucky gets more turned on than he knows what to do with. They finish quickly after that, and Steve falls asleep with his wheezing chest tucked up against Bucky's. Bucky smothers him with Vick's before he goes to sleep himself. 

 

 

A couple more days and Steve's well enough to work, at least for a few hours at a time, though Bucky keeps forcing him to take breaks, which drives Steve crazy. He's still tired and achey, his lungs wet and rotten with mucus, but now he's well enough to get furious about needing to be looked after. Bucky bears his ranting and insults with good humor for the first three hours, then he just starts fighting back, giving Steve as good as he gets. They end up screaming at each other over nothing at all, and really the only surprise is that they didn't start sooner. 

"I don't _care_ if you don't want it, Steve," Bucky snaps. "You _need_ it."

"I'm fine on my own!" Steve yells, his face twisted with fury. Bucky wonders how they're the same people they were two days ago, gazing at each other with the sappiest look in their eyes and doing all they could to crawl deeper into each other's skin. He wants nothing more than to get out of there, but he doesn't want to leave this half done. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to speak calmly.

"What's this really about?"

" _Nothing_!" Steve shouts, scowling at him. "It's about you treating me like a fucking child!" His voice fails him then, breath staggering, and he turns away furiously while he gasps for air. Bucky watches him reach into his desk for his inhaler, watches his narrow shoulders pull together, then spread as he relaxes. His fingers itch to hold Steve, and he puts out just one fingertip, tracing it down from the base of Steve's hairline, down the bumpy ridges of his spine. " _Bucky_ ," Steve says, in a low whisper. 

Bucky takes it for the apology it is and slides his hand around Steve's waist to pull him closer. "You're not a little kid," he says gently, pressing kisses into Steve's hair, "but you _are_ still sick, you gotta take it easy."

He feels Steve's chest expand against him, then he pushes all the air out in a huff of frustration. "I know. I hate it."

"Take a break from this," Bucky says, gesturing at Steve's desk. "Let's go up on the roof, see your birds."

Steve shakes his head. "Not today." He hasn't been up there in over a week, but he has a friend on call to look after the pigeons while he's sick. It worries Bucky a little that he won't even go up there, but he decides not to push. Steve can generally be trusted to know what he wants. "I hate feeling useless," Steve whispers, his voice so quiet that Bucky almost has to ask him to repeat it before the words fall into place in his head. 

"You're not," Bucky says sternly, hugging Steve tight against his chest. "You're about the least useless person I ever met." Steve doesn't say anything, and Bucky gets an idea. "Hey, come into the den with me."

"I got work to do."

"It'll keep, come on."

He drags Steve over to the piano stool and sits him down. "Oh, Buck I really don't feel like-"

"Quit whining, I wanna play you somethin'."

Steve looks surprised. "You never said you could play."

A little sheepish, Bucky scratches an imaginary itch on the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I'm not that great, especially now I can't play the chords." He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and gently eases him onto the stool. "That's where you come in."

"What should I play?"

Bucky grabs a sheet of notation paper from on top of the piano and quickly scrawls some notes across it. He's got the melody in his head already; it's pretty simple, because his voice is gonna carry most of it, he hopes. He shoves the paper at Steve with a self-conscious grin. "Sorry it's rough, you'll work it out."

Steve just nods and takes it with a strangely reverent touch. He studies it for a few seconds, then he puts it up where he can read it and moves over for Bucky to join him on the stool. 

It takes him all his courage to sit down. Aside from messing around on it over the past week while Steve's been sleeping, working out the melody in his head, Bucky hasn't really touched a piano in about three years. "Gimme a minute," he says, dropping his thumb on C and closing his eyes. His fingers find where they need to go as soon as he stops thinking about it. "I don't - I haven't written anything in a while, so don't laugh, okay?"

"Bucky," Steve says, his tone low and serious. "I would never."

He licks his lips, nods, and starts to play. His touch is slow and halting at first, then he gets nervous and outruns Steve's accompaniment. 

"Take a deep breath," Steve mutters, reaching his hand over to cover Bucky's. "We got all day."

Bucky laughs awkwardly and turns his hand over to knot his fingers with Steve's. "Okay."

He does take a deep breath, and he finds that it helps. 

He puts his fingers on the keyboard again and shuts his eyes. It makes it easier somehow to follow what he's doing if he isn't trying to watch where to place his fingers next. Bucky takes a deep breath again, waits for Steve to give him three soft chords, and he starts to sing. His voice feels odd and shaky but he hopes Steve won't notice. It's not the kind of music he usually writes but his usual style doesn't seem to fit him anymore and he wanted to write something that's a little more _Steve_ , He stumbles through the first verse, glad of keeping his eyes closed because it means he can't see Steve's reaction to this, only imagine it, though that might be worse. 

As he slips into the refrain, his voice growing bolder, Steve sings a gentle harmony to support him, elaborating on the chords Bucky has given him to fill out the melody, and Bucky finds he can't not look. He turns to Steve with a smile, to find that Steve is already watching him, his expression soft and serious. Bucky lets the words come through him, and turns away again because he's not yet ready to say these things to Steve's face, that's why he put them in a song instead. Really the song doesn't have anything to do with Steve, it's nonsense and sensations and sounds and it's the feeling he had watching Steve watching his pigeons in flight. 

He runs out of words and falters, but Steve keeps playing, singing Bucky's words back to him half an octave higher, his eyes falling closed as he loses himself in it. His voice is rough, a lot more gravelly than usual, and Bucky can tell he's struggling to keep going. He reaches out for Steve's hand again as he stops singing and brings it up to his mouth.   
"Yeah, okay," he says with a fond look. He brushes his lips over Steve's bony knuckles. "You just made that sound a billion times better than I could have."

Steve shakes his head. "No, Bucky. That was all you."

What Bucky wants more than anything right then is to kiss Steve and literally never stop, but his eyelids are heavy and his throat is rough and his chest is whining every time he breathes in. "Let's take a nap," he says, getting up and pulling Steve to his feet. Steve looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn't, and Bucky leads him over to the couch. He gets himself comfy and pulls Steve down on top of him. Steve straight away tucks his left ear onto Bucky's chest, thigh sliding in between his to anchor himself in place. 

"You wrote that for me," Steve mumbles. It's not a question, because it's so _obviously true_ , even Steve can't doubt it. 

Bucky strokes Steve's hair. "Yeah."

"Thank you."

Steve falls asleep in minutes, but Bucky lies awake a little longer, the song still chasing round in his head, Steve's voice cracked and thick like a chainsmoker's, but still reaching down into the pit of him and yanking out all the things he normally keeps hidden. 

"Steve," he whispers, giving Steve's shoulder a shake. "Steve?"

"Mmmwhat," Steve moans, cracking one eye open at him. "Samatter?"

Bucky closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. "I gotta tell you something."

"Now?"

" _Yes_ now," Bucky grits out, before he can lose his nerve. "I lost my hand in a motorcycle accident when I was twenty-five." He opens his eyes again when he feels Steve shift in his arms, moving to look Bucky in the eye. He is silent and solemn, waiting for Bucky to go on, which he does with a sigh. "I was - I was drunk, really wasted, and I got a call to say my - this guy I was seeing, he was in the hospital, tried to OD."

He pauses, waiting to see if Steve has anything to add, but he just goes on staring at Bucky with his big, patient eyes. Waiting. 

"Well we'd been fighting." He sighs again, feeling Steve move with his chest. "We always fought, truth be told, the guy was kind of a jerk." Bucky screws his eyes shut and jams the heel of his hand into his left eye socket. His eyes are _burning_ , and he swore he was done crying about this, but his body disagrees. 

"Bucky," Steve whispers, spreading his hand over Bucky's chest, over his heart. He doesn't say _you don't have to tell me_ , because he doesn't need to and Bucky is so fucking grateful to have met him.

He wipes his eyes and sniffs. "Anyway I got this call, and I was _wrecked_ , but it made me realize how much I - I-" he groans and wipes at his eyes again. "Fuck this."  
Steve climbs up and kisses his cheeks, kisses his eyelids and the side of his nose and licks the tears off his mouth. "Bucky," he whispers, cradling Bucky's face in his hands so gently, the way he holds an injured bird. "It's okay, I've got you, it's okay."

Bucky fists his hand in Steve's shirt and stops trying to hold back the sob in his chest. He coughs it up on Steve's shoulder, spluttering wet on his neck, whimpering as Steve clutches him close, still whispering platitudes. It hurts, it still hurts so fucking much, and Bucky can feel the ghost of his fingers where his arm presses against Steve's back, and it makes him so _angry_ the way he's learned not to be. 

"C'mon Bucky," Steve is whispering, kissing Bucky's hair. "It's okay, c'mon, I've got you."

Bucky takes a shuddering breath, steadying himself against the warmth of Steve's body. "I - I thought I was in love with him, I dunno, I guess I was. And I was at this party, and I was gonna go home with someone else when I got the call about him being in the ER." Bucky gasps for air again, and Steve rubs his chest softly. "I didn't even think. I mean, obviously. I just jumped on my bike and ten minutes later I wrecked the fucking thing under a truck, only survived because the bike took the heat and I was thrown clear."

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve mutters, reaching up to brush a lock of hair off his face. "Do you know how pissed I would've been if I never got to meet you?"

It makes Bucky smile, just a little, but he can't let Steve comfort him just yet. He's gotta tell the rest of the story.

"When I was in the hospital-" Steve's eyes widen as he keeps talking, clearly not expecting there to be _more_ , but he doesn't say anything, just listens with his patient gaze on Bucky's face. "I was in a coma for a few days, then I woke up and found out I was down one hand. Dugan was there first. They'd all been sitting with me in shifts the whole time since the crash. The others didn't want him to tell me what happened but he said he wasn't gonna hide it." Bucky hesitates here, because he's never told this to anyone before, not even Becca. She knows all about the accident, how it happened and why, but he never told her this. 

"Bucky, what is it?"

He bites his lip, his eyes burning again, but no, he's _done_. "He was never in the ER," Bucky grates out, looking down at his chest. "My ex, he - there was no OD, he got one of his friends to call me and fake it. He was bored, and pissed, and he wanted to fuck with me."

Steve actually gasps, his hand going to cover his mouth. "What the _fuck_ ," he mutters, his eyes shocked and awful. "Bucky, _Christ_." Bucky shrugs, a half-hearted movement with his left shoulder. Steve lays his hand over Bucky's heart again, his expression dark and forlorn. "I'm so sorry."

Bucky sniffs, and he pulls Steve to him again, crushing him close. Steve holds him, which is all he could ask for right now but he's glad he doesn't have to. He feels Steve yawn into his shoulder, and he feels guilty for bringing this up right now, when Steve badly needs to rest. "Hey," he says, pulling away. "Let's get some sleep."

Steve shakes his head firmly. "No. I'm taking you to bed, but not to sleep."

Bucky tries to laugh, but it comes out cracked and wrong. Steve kisses him. He kisses him slow and open-mouthed and like nothing else in the entire world matters at all except doing this. 

"I'm gonna tell you something," Steve whispers, holding him steady, fingers around his jaw. "And I don't want you to say anything back. But I just want you to hear it, okay?"

Bucky nods, and his stomach twists with anticipation, because this has got to be it, Steve is gonna say that he loves him, and Bucky will finally be able to tell him how he feels, because what fucking better moment could there be than this? Steve parts his mouth, and hesitates. Bucky holds his breath.

"You are, honest to god, the most beautiful person I've ever known," Steve says calmly, looking deep into Bucky's eyes. His mouth quirks. "And that includes Peggy." Bucky laughs softly, and Steve drops a brief kiss on his mouth. "You're beautiful and talented and you can do anything you wanna do. And whatever that is, I will be there to help if you need me. Because I know you'll do the same for me."

He ducks his eyes away at last and smiles at himself. "Anyway, yeah, I believe I said something about taking you to bed." 

Bucky stares for a moment, totally nonplussed, because that was supposed to be it, wasn't it? That was their _moment_ , and Steve didn't say it. _He_ didn't say it. And now it's too late and Steve is pulling him to his feet (well, he's trying, but he's still weak and Bucky is a lot heavier), and leading him up the stairs. And Bucky lets it go, because Steve touches him so soft and tender, it almost feels like being told he's in love, and really there's time for that later, maybe. 

 

 

The Commandos come crashing back into town a week later, tired and rowdy, peppering Steve and Bucky's phones with messages, pictures and sexual innuendo. They all seem delighted that Steve and Bucky have done as they were told and gotten together, and insist that they come along to the final show of the tour. Steve is still kind of sick though, and Bucky tries to talk him out of going. The last place Steve needs to be is a sweaty, stinky venue, drinking and staying out too late, but Steve is not having any of it. 

"I promised them I'd go," Steve says, with a determined set to his shoulders that Bucky has learned to read as his _I do what I want_ stance (aka, the one he doesn't argue with). 

"Alright," Bucky says, crawling into bed next to him, Steve has his laptop balanced on his thighs, but Bucky pushes it away and tucks his head in its place. 

"Bucky-" Steve whines, "I was reading that." But he puts his fingers in Bucky's hair anyway, and starts rubbing small circles on his scalp. Steve's thighs are warm from the laptop fan, and Bucky closes his eyes and snuggles in closer. "I was thinking," Steve says quietly. "You wanna go away for a while?"

"On vacation y'mean?"

Steve shrugs. "Could do. But Peggy and I are planning a tour after Christmas. We've been putting it off, but we talked about it and we really need to make it happen soon. So, would you come with us?"

Bucky rolls to look up at him. "Of course."

There's a split second where Steve's brow creases, obviously surprised by Bucky's quick response. "Just like that?"

"Yup."

"Wow." A tentative smile slips onto his face and his hand stills on the back of Bucky's head. "That - that's great. Are you sure?"

Bucky sighs and turns to bite Steve's thigh through his pajamas. He yelps, jostling Bucky's head. "Quit it!"

"Quit asking me dumb questions. I said I'd go, so I'll go."

"Fine! Excuse me for caring about your feelings."

Bucky bites him again, and when Steve starts flailing his legs in response, he puts his weight on them and pins Steve to the mattress. 

"Oh," Steve murmurs, loosening up and going still underneath him. 

"That's better," Bucky says, grabbing Steve by his hips to haul him down onto his back. He crawls over Steve's legs to pin them down again and rubs his mouth over his stomach, stubble scraping at the soft skin. 

Steve sighs, warm and breathless, and he cups Bucky's head between his hands. "Hey there, Buck."

Bucky's laugh skitters across Steve's ribs. "Hey yourself."

"Mm, what you gonna do with me?" he says in a rough voice, "now that you got me here?"

He wriggles up against Bucky, not hard enough to try and free himself, just enough to make things a little interesting. "Think I'm gonna keep you right here," Bucky says, kissing his belly. "And never let you go."

Steve tenses slightly. "Except for the gig, you mean."

"Steve-" Bucky sighs, feeling a fight coming on. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Well I do!" he snaps back.

"Why do you make it so damn difficult to take care of you?" Bucky mutters, only half annoyed.

Steve scowls at him. "I don't need taking care of!" He starts struggling in earnest, thrashing at Bucky's limbs. He rolls out of the way, out of the line of fire, and takes note of Steve's labored breathing. Without a word, he shuffles over to grab Steve's inhaler from the bedside cabinet, but Steve leans over too and smacks his hand away. Bucky just glares while he grabs his inhaler and takes a puff of air from it. It takes a minute or so for Steve's chest to ease, and when Bucky is sure he's okay, he climbs off the bed and reaches for his jeans. 

"What, now you're leaving?" Steve says, in a tired, petulant tone. 

Bucky sighs as his pulls his pants on. "You go tonight, if you want. I don't feel like it."

"Bucky-"

"Enough bullshit, Steve," Bucky says, rounding on him. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, you're preaching to a fucking choir here. I had to learn the difference between people doing stuff for me because I'm helpless, and people trying to help me out because they care. You need to learn that too." 

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, stunned into silence for once. It's not the smartest or most mature thing he could do, but Bucky just _can't_ right now, so he turns and reaches for the door. 

"Bucky, wait."

Without turning around, he can hear Steve get up and cross the room, then Steve's hands press onto his hips. "I mean it, Steve," he says in a low voice. "You can't keep acting like a jackass just 'cause you can't keep up."

"I _know_ ," Steve says with a groan. Then, more softly, "I know that." He presses his forehead against Bucky's back, and his hot breath comes through the thin t-shirt. 

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"I'm an idiot."

Bucky smiles. "I know, Steve, it's cool. Like I said, I've been there, I get it."

He feels Steve shake his head, and he makes a couple of small, aborted sounds like there's something he needs to say but he doesn't know how. Bucky's already used to seeing Steve tear himself up with frustration; when he's sick, or when he's too tired to work but he does it anyway and makes dumb mistakes that set him back even more. He pushes himself too hard, but just try and tell him that. 

"You handle it so much better," Steve says quietly, then pushes out a heavy sigh. "I've had my whole life to get used to this."

It's ridiculous how many times a day Steve tugs on his protective string, as if it's the only note he's learned, but there it is. Bucky turns and gathers Steve in his arms. "You expect too damn much from yourself," he says into Steve's hair. "You can't be perfect all the time."

Steve's voice is muffled in his chest, but it's there. "I know."

They stay where they are for a few minutes, and Bucky runs his fingers through Steve's hair and kisses the soft dark curve of his eyebrow. "Got an idea," he says, when Steve shows no sign of wanting to move. He doesn't say anything back, but he makes a curious noise in his throat, and Bucky cracks a smile. "Would you feel better if I sang for you?"

The look Steve gives him is pure sunshine, his eyes lighting up so that the sick, gaunt cast almost disappears from his face. "You really would?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Are you kidding? I love hearing you sing!"

He can't help laughing at that, because Steve's probably heard him sing a grand total of five times, and that includes in-shower performances. He strokes Steve's cheekbone with the pad of this thumb and kisses the freckles on his nose. "Okay," he says softly. "Any requests?"

Steve digs out his guitar and gets comfortable on the bed while he forces Bucky to sing Neil Young, Springsteen and Fleetwood Mac until he goes hoarse. He croaks his way through one last Tom Waits number just to see Steve's tired smile. 

"That's enough," he says at last, wrestling the guitar away from Steve before going to fetch himself some more water. Steve is curled on his side when he comes back, his feet tucked under a blanket. Bucky sits down in the space left by the curve of his stomach, and Steve puts his head up onto Bucky's thigh. "Everything alright?"

"Uh huh," Steve mumbles, snuggling closer to him. He yawns against Bucky's leg. "Y'wanna stay in tonight?"

Bucky strokes his shoulder. "Do you?"

"Mm. Tired. Think I should rest."

Bucky nods. "Okay then." He tucks Steve in for a nap and goes to call Morita and apologize in advance for their absence. 

"He was that bad, huh?" Morita asks when Bucky is done explaining about Steve's flu. "He told us he'd just had a cold and you were being overprotective."

 _Of course he did_ , Bucky thinks, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Morita laughs, but Bucky can hear the concern there in his voice. "Look, don't worry, dude. Just take care of the little guy, alright?"

"Yessir," Bucky says with a grateful smile. "And I promise we'll be at the next one."

"Uh huh. And Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself too, alright?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

Writing is easier said than done, especially when Bucky's put off doing it for so long. He does it occasionally; he scrawls tabs or lines of notation when he just can't get something out of his head, and there are little snatches of lyrics all over his paperwork, old magazines, newspapers, you name it. Still, sitting down at a piano with something, with the intention of writing, his mind goes blank.

"Okay," Steve says, seeing his hesitation. He puts his hand on Bucky's knee, and Bucky's fingers on the keys. "Close your eyes and tell me what it feels like to kiss me."

Bucky smiles. "I could just show you."

"I don't want you to tell me," Steve says gently, giving his knee a squeeze. "I want you to play it for me."

"I - I don't know how." 

Steve moves his hand away, and Bucky hears him press a few keys gently. Then, he starts to finger his way through a delicate melody, at first tentative, then growing bolder. A couple of times he hesitates, or throws in snatches of music that Bucky recognizes, and every now and then he'll fumble and laugh at himself. "Okay," he says after a minute, resting his hands. "That was awful, but you get the idea."

Bucky swallows hard. Steve's right, it was rough, but he can see how it sounded kind of like a kiss. Like something building, like learning something new. He shakes his head and opens his eyes to Steve's hopeful expression. "I don't know what-" He breaks off with a sigh. "Sorry, I don't play well enough to do that."

"It doesn't matter," Steve murmurs, his gaze soft and encouraging. "I'll help."

Bucky shuts his eyes again, mostly because he feels too self-conscious with them open, and thumbs over a couple of keys. He takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. "Okay, okay," he mutters under his breath. He can feel Steve beside him, not quite close enough to touch but giving off heat, and hear his breathing. He thinks about kissing Steve, about the warm resistance of his mouth, how his pink lips feel between Bucky's teeth. He starts to play, barely even hearing what he's coming out with, and trying to pretend it doesn't matter anyway. Eventually he stumbles to a stop, and his eyes flick open. 

"That was great!" Steve is grinning wide, and Bucky may not quite believe him, but he's pleased to have put that smile on Steve's face. 

Steve picks up his guitar, and starts to play something that sort of resembles what he played himself, but there are moments that Bucky recognizes from his own fumblings too. "Sound good?" he asks, winking at Bucky, "or awful?"

"Slow it down a little," Bucky says, and starts tapping his foot on the hardwood floor. "Repeat that second - yeah, that bit." He finds Steve's smile catching on his own face, the excitement carrying him along.

They stop abruptly when Steve runs out of song, and with Bucky's percussion he starts over, changing some of the notes this time. Bucky waits until he repeats the melody, and he starts singing along, making up some nonsense about Steve's mouth being like a piece of fruit he wants to tear into. He makes his voice low and gravelly, a little Leonard Cohen, giving it a slow, sultry feel even as Steve starts laughing at him. 

"Jesus, that's filthy," Steve says when they stop, and his eyes dart to Bucky's mouth. "That's what you think about kissing me?"

Bucky grins at him, wolfishly, and Steve moves the guitar between them like a shield. "Oh no, mister, we'll never get anywhere if we stop every ten minutes to have sex." But his eyes are drawn back to Bucky's mouth regardless. "Okay, let me write this down."

He digs out some paper, and Bucky scrawls the music down while Steve picks his way through it a couple more times. He notes the lyrics underneath too, meaning just to make Steve laugh with it afterwards, but some of them might actually be salvageable. He thinks about Steve singing that up on stage and it sends a shiver through him. 

"Buck?"

"Hm?"

Steve grins at him. "Just asked if you wanna try something else. I'm all for sexing up mine and Peggy's repertoire but maybe something less raunchy?"

"Sure, what you got in mind?"

They trade ideas and bits of melody back and forth for a couple of hours, and Bucky is constantly amazed by how _easy_ it is. Steve is so receptive, Bucky only has to hum a few notes and Steve picks right up and takes it somewhere better. He doesn't tell Bucky his lyrics are dumb. He tries them out this way and that, switching them around or changing the odd word until it feels right. 

They end up with maybe three halves of songs, before Steve shakes his head and tosses his guitar onto the couch. "I'm done," he says, flopping back onto the floor with a sigh. "Man, I'm so tired."

Bucky nudges him with his toes. "No sleeping on the floor, come on. We talked about this."

Steve cracks one eye open. "We did?"

"Yeah, we said no sleeping on the floor."

"Funny," Steve says, and breaks off into a cough. "You're right though, it's pretty gross down here."

Bucky reaches down to give him a hand up. "Come on, you'll give yourself an asthma attack like that."

Steve takes his hand, but instead of pushing himself up, he just tugs on Bucky's wrist. "Don't wanna get up yet," he says, somehow contriving to look coy. "Join me?"

"I thought you said it was gross," Bucky mutters, getting down on his knees anyway. 

Steve reaches for Bucky's jeans and starts unbuttoning them. "Yeah, well, I just watched you sing for an hour and I didn't do a single thing to your mouth yet. This can't wait." 

As he strips Steve of his t-shirt, Bucky's surprised to find himself disappointed that Peggy's a whole continent away, and there's not the slightest chance of her walking in. He pulls the shirt up to Steve's wrists and then winds it into a knot. He'd love to see what Peggy makes of walking in to find Steve tied up on the living room floor. "Bucky," Steve whispers, writhing against him. "Bucky, don't tease, _please_."

"I'm not," Bucky says sternly, pressing him down with kisses and plenty of teeth, gnawing at the tattoo over his ribcage and reaching down to slip Steve's sweatpants down. "Roll over." He turns Steve onto his belly, then hauls him up by his hips so that he's on his knees and elbows, wrists jutting out in front of him. 

"Jesus Christ," Steve murmurs, pushing back into Bucky's hand on his ass. "Bucky, please-"

Bucky pushes his hand up over Steve's back, scraping lightly with his nails as he draws it back down again. "You said you wanted my mouth, so you're gonna get it." Bucky licks his thumb and rubs it over Steve's tight hole, listening to him whimper and struggle, wrists knocking against the floorboards. "What do you want?"

Steve lets out a harsh breath. "You, I want you - augh, Bucky - your mouth, please, _Bucky_ your mouth, god, I can't-"

"Shhhh." Bucky rubs his palm over Steve's back again, then he rubs his thumb over Steve's ass again. "Got any lube hidden down here, or just condoms?"

"Ah - there - there's lube on the bookshelf, behind Moby Dick."

Bucky cackles, and gives Steve's butt a short, sharp slap. "You're ridiculous."

He trips over to the bookcase and hunts for the book. Either Steve or Peggy has alphabetized them at some point so it doesn't take him long to find the right one and dig out a little pump bottle of lube and a condom. He doesn't know if they're gonna need the condom, but he doesn't want to get up twice.

"You gonna fuck me?" Steve asks, his voice cracked and dirty, cheek pushed into the floor. 

Bucky looks down at him and grins. "I'm kinda hoping you'll fuck me, actually."

Steve's eyes widen and he lets out a soft moan, before he bites his lip to catch it. "Really?" He starts to push himself up from the floor, but Bucky stills him with a hand on his back again, and crouches down. 

"Hold it," he says. "I'm still gonna eat you out first."

Steve shudders. "Yes sir."

Bucky grabs a pillow from the couch and pulls off his jeans, then settles himself behind Steve, who hasn't moved. Bucky spreads Steve's legs a little more, and pulls him back by his hip so that he's sitting on his heels, head tucked down between his arms. Bracing the lube bottle against the floor, Bucky manages to squeeze some on his fingers, and he reaches behind to work himself open while at the same time leaning in to run his tongue over Steve's hole. Steve whimpers and Bucky frowns with the effort of doing both things at once, but he's not ready to give up just yet. It's hard work, balancing on his left elbow on the pillow while he slides two fingers inside himself, but the sounds that Steve is making are more than worth it.

"Oh, god, Bucky," Steve moans, when Bucky's tongue fucks into him. "I'm gonna fuck you so good, gonna make it so good, ah - ah - _fuck_."

Normally he finds Steve's sexytime pottymouth equal parts hot and hilarious, but right now with his fingers up his ass and the knowledge that Steve's dick is about to follow, Bucky finds that he literally cannot stop moaning. He hasn't been fucked in a _long_ time, but a little part of him (okay, a _huge_ part of him), definitely misses it. Steve starts moving his hips, pushing back against Bucky's face, which is hot as fuck and, also, helpful as it takes the pressure off him to move. He can tell Steve wants to touch himself by the way his hips are moving, butt jerking back and forth, but he doesn't do it. He could probably free himself from that t-shirt in a second if he wanted to, but he doesn't. Bucky really needs to get him tied up again soon. 

"Okay stop, stop," Steve gasps loudly, trying to pull away, out of his reach. "Jesus Christ I'm never gonna last with you doing that."

Bucky grins and wipes his face on his forearm. "You ready?"

Steve groans as he pushes himself up onto all fours. "Are you serious?" he says, as he struggles with his bound wrists to turn around and face Bucky. "Are _you_ ready?"

"Hell yes."

Steve hooks his arms over Bucky's neck and nuzzles into his shoulder. "Mmm _Bucky_." He nips at Bucky's ear with his teeth, then turns his head to kiss him. Bucky laughs when Steve pulls a face. "Does my ass really taste like that?" he mutters. 

Bucky kisses him again, just to be a jerk. "Where do you want me?" They both pull back a little, and Steve glances around him. "Be easier from behind," Bucky urges. 

"Can I have my hands back?"

Bucky nods, and Steve struggles out of the makeshift bondage. "Okay," he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to Bucky's forehead. "Turn around."

They both shuffle around and push and pull at each other until they get comfortable. Bucky snags the pillow again to prop himself on, and kneels in front of Steve. "Put me where you want me," he says over his shoulder, lust burning in his belly. Steve puts a hand on the back of Bucky's neck, and he moans as he's pushed forwards until his forehead touches the floor.

"Right there," Steve mutters, picking up the lube and squeezing some out. He puts one hand on Bucky's back, smoothing down from the top of his spine to his tailbone, before pushing two fingers inside him. Steve's fingers are smaller and slimmer than his own but the angle is better: the touch, weirdly, more sure than his own. He keeps stroking Bucky's back while he fingers him, tickles along his ribs with a feather touch that makes him gasp, and reaches around to pinch his nipple. It's not the first time Steve's had his fingers inside him, but Bucky's eager for more, for the weight of Steve's body moving over him, filling him-

"God, _Steve_ ," Bucky whines. "More, please, _more_. I can take it, come _on_."

As if he'd been waiting for those exact words, Steve twists another finger in right away, and Bucky moans contentedly at the sensation. His dick is trapped between his thighs and his stomach, and it feels hot and angry, urging to be touched. Bucky shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it. 

"You ready?" Steve asks, quick and breathless. Bucky wants to make him stop and grab his inhaler, but he's already nodding _yes_ to the question, and Steve gets himself in position behind Bucky before he can do anything. "God, Bucky," he whines, as he begins to push in. "Didn't realize how much I wanted to do this." His fingers dig into Bucky's hips as he pushes slow, achingly slow, until he's got himself all the way inside. His fingers release and flutter over Bucky's waist before they tighten again, clutching at him. 

"Aw jeez," Bucky murmurs, gritting his teeth as he gets used to the fullness. Steve's hands are back on his hips, measuring the tension in his body, and Bucky knows Steve won't keep going until he says it's okay. He takes a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, turns his head to rest his cheek on his forearm. "Shit, shit, Steve," he murmurs, overwhelmed by the sensation. He takes a breath. "It's okay - you can go, I'm good-"

With a happy sigh, Steve moves back a little, before pushing in again. He curls forwards, wrapping himself over Bucky's back and his arms around Bucky's chest. "Bucky," he breathes, warming Bucky's shoulder with his voice. "This feels so _fucking_ amazing."

Bucky sighs too and shifts his hips slightly, which is all he can manage in any case with Steve on him and inside him and his smell all around him, and Steve whimpers into his shoulder blade. "Okay," Bucky says gently, adjusting his weight to get comfortable. "Get moving."

Smearing laughter on his skin, Steve loosens his grip around Bucky's chest a little and grinds into his ass. Bucky whines and pushes back against him, and Steve starts fucking him in earnest. He keeps it slow and rhythmic, his hips describing a circle in the air like a piston in action. He laughs again breathlessly. "Bucky, I - don't laugh, but I'm not gonna last long."

Bucky's surprised to find that drags a moan out of him; the idea that Steve is so close _already_ just from this, just from _him_. "Fuck it," he says in a gritty voice. "We can always - do it again later."

"Fuck yes," Steve moans, driving into him harder, his rhythm picking up a notch. "How about - every day."

"Mmm, if you want." Steve lets out a soft, broken noise at that, and Bucky laughs gently. The sound huffs out of him harder each time Steve thrusts into him. "I think you can do better than this," he says, low and teasing. "C'mon Stevie-"

Steve groans loudly and wraps his arms tighter around Bucky. "Screw you," he whispers, voice quiet and desperate. "Shit, Bucky-"

"Attaboy, Stevie," he mutters, "there's a good boy, gonna come for me, let me feel you come inside me-"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Steve moans, breath skittering over Bucky's back. "Jesus - unh - Bucky, Bucky - _fuck_ -" His words break off into a harsh arpeggio of moans and sharp, bitten-off noises. It makes Bucky feel hot and desperate all over, blood pounding in his dick almost painfully, he so badly needs to be touched, but he'll wait. He'll wait for Steve. The sound of Steve's voice is almost enough; Bucky loves that all of his fans get to own a little piece of Steve's voice, but only he gets to hear it like this, at its most beautiful.   
Steve moves back slightly, skin slipping sticky down Bucky's spine, giving himself enough leverage to pump into Bucky fast and hard, hot thighs pressed tight to Bucky's. "Ohh, Bucky," he moans, "I can't - I can't-"

"Just let go," Bucky urges, fighting to talk over the urgent need in his throat, "c'mon Stevie please just fuck me I want you to - fill me up c'mon-"

Steve rocks his hips into Bucky another half dozen times and stills suddenly with a sob, shuddering against him, nails digging hard into his ribs. His breaths come out ragged, his chest heaving against Bucky's back, but the sound is clear and easy, no need for his inhaler. Bucky waits for him to come down, biting his lip to tamp down on the desperate fire in his belly. 

After a minute or so, Steve pushes himself up with a groan, spreading his hands on Bucky's shoulders. He presses a kiss to the middle of Bucky's back, then moves down, mouthing along his spine. Bucky moans and arches up against him.

"C'mere," Steve says, rough and sleepy. "Need you in my mouth." He nudges at Bucky's waist and rolls him over onto his back. Bucky whines at the slick sensation between his legs, but he doesn't have long to meditate on it before Steve surges down and takes Bucky's dick in his mouth, the whole thing right down in one go. With a noisy moan, Bucky shoves his fingers into Steve's hair and grabs on tight. 

Steve nudges Bucky's thigh over his shoulder and pushes two fingers up his ass again, crooking them deep inside while he sucks Bucky down to the back of his throat. Ten seconds of that and Bucky's just _gone_. He fists his hand in his own hair, throws his other arm over his face and lets his voice drain out of him, pouring out the urgency. Steve's movements slow, become gentle as he urges Bucky through his orgasm, still sucking on him softly until Bucky whimpers and has to push him off. 

"Steve," he whispers, "Stevie, c'mere-"

Steve crawls on top of him, and Bucky catches his mouth and kisses him lazily, licking into the salty, bitter taste of his own body on Steve's tongue. With a soft moan, Steve curls up against him and pulls Bucky's bottom lip between his teeth, rolling it there softly before letting it slip free again. 

"Hey Buck," he mutters, and tucks his face into Bucky's neck. "Let's write music more often."

Laughing gently, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and hugs him tight. "You bet."

 

 

It's Friday, Peggy's still away for six more days and Bucky has the whole weekend off. Needless to say, it's five thirty and he and Steve are hardcore making out on the couch. It starts innocently enough, the two of them snuggled up watching some crappy TV. Bucky has a hangnail from helping Steve shift some plants on the roof earlier in the day, and he's trying to gnaw down the jagged edge of his nail when he turns and catches Steve _staring_ at him. He doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it; Bucky takes his thumb out of his mouth and says Steve's name, but Steve just goes on staring at his mouth. 

"Hey," Bucky says, and clicks his fingers in front of Steve's face. "Come in, Captain America? Your country needs you!" Steve blinks, and looks guiltily up to meet Bucky's eyes. Then, before he has time to react, Steve clambers into his lap and starts kissing him. Bucky's kind of gotten used to this by now: that Steve will just happen to spend too long looking at his mouth and need to be attached to it for a while before he can function again, but it still takes him by surprise. That's not to say he doesn't enjoy it.

Bucky slides down on the couch, taking Steve with him, until they're stretched out with Steve on top, just kissing lazily, in no hurry to get anywhere else just yet. He slips his hand inside Steve's sweats and cups his little butt, while Steve pushes slow, open-mouthed kisses across his throat. Bucky is just about to say something really sappy like "I never want to stop doing this", or, maybe, "I think I'm gonna marry you", but he's saved the embarrassment by someone ringing the doorbell.

"Shiiiit," Steve groans, dropping his forehead onto Bucky's shoulder. "I have the biggest boner right now."

"I noticed," Bucky mutters, kneading Steve's ass with his fingers so that Steve's hips jitter against his. 

"Quit it," Steve mutters, without much feeling. The doorbell rings again more urgently, and he lifts his head and looks at Bucky mournfully. Bucky just shrugs.

"Can't help you." 

Steve sighs and climbs off him. "Fine, I'm going."

Bucky watches over the top of the couch as he walks toward the hallway, fussing with his pants and muttering angrily at his crotch. Literally everything Steve does makes Bucky feel warm and smushy inside, whether it's pouring milk on his cereal, soaping up his armpits in the shower, or wrestling bags of trash out onto the sidewalk. He decides that as soon as Steve has gotten rid of his visitor, Bucky is gonna pin him down and just fucking _tell him_ how much he loves him. Because, everything else aside, he probably already knows. And if Steve hasn't worked it out yet, Peggy definitely will have.

He hears a muttered conversation in the hallway, then the door closes quietly and the talk continues inside. Frowning, Bucky forces himself to sit up and think about things that don't involve Steve, and therefore don't result in insta-boner, but it's tricky. He waits a minute or so but they don't come into the den, so he heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. Steve and his friend walk in from the hallway at exactly the same moment. 

"Oh, Bucky," Steve says awkwardly. "I dunno if you remember Howard."

Well, it's no wonder Steve is shy about it. Bucky recognizes the smug-looking asshole right away this time. 

"Yeah, Maria's husband," he says, without any pretense at friendliness, because this asshat just interrupted some seriously good makeout time. Unfortunately, that's when Bucky notices that Steve is making an elaborate _shut the fuck up oh my god_ gesture behind Howard, which makes a lot more sense when the guy frowns and says, "Yeah, for now."

"Huh."

"Bucky," Steve says, taking over. "You want some coffee?"

"I'll make it," he says, nodding to Howard. "You two talk. Sorry to hear it's not working out."

Howard shrugs and offers him a rueful smile, and Bucky turns away to boil the kettle and deliberately doesn't think about how Steve's hand rests on Howard's shoulder without thinking, how it took such little effort to break right through his defenses. Because he's not gonna be _that guy_. Especially not if the dude's marriage is falling apart. Bucky feels a sudden stab of guilt, because he doesn't think he's spoken to Maria since the wedding. She's one of many friends and acquaintances he just never bothered looking up again after the accident. He feels even worse now he knows things aren't going well in her marriage.

He takes his time brewing the coffee, and sets two cups on a little serving tray so he can carry them both through at once. Steve and Howard are sitting close together on the couch, talking quietly. Bucky really doesn't want to be an ass, but the guy does not look as broken up as he should be. 

"Hey, I'm gonna head home," he says, setting down the tray and trying to look unobtrusive. "You guys should talk."

Steve mutters something to Howard, then gets up and leads Bucky over to the hallway. "You can stay if you want," he says, running his fingers up and down Bucky's left arm. "I mean, I'd like you to. We had plans and stuff."

"You should take care of your friend. You know where to find me."

Steve huffs gently, pulling a face. "I should turn his stupid ass out on the street."

"She threw him out?" Steve nods. Bucky glances in at Howard's hunched shoulders. He looks defeated, and Bucky feels a twinge of pity for the guy. Just a twinge. "What happened?"  
Steve shrugs. "He doesn't really wanna talk about it, but I think she might be screwing around on him."

" _Maria?_ " Bucky says, surprised, but then it's been a few years and how can you really know which of your friends are likely to cheat on their spouse one day. "Shit, man. Never would've expected that."

"I'm just guessing, until he actually talks to me."

Bucky sighs and cups the back of Steve's head to kiss his forehead. "And that's my cue to leave."

 

 

It's been almost three days since Bucky got to spend some quality time with Steve, who has about six deadlines to turn in, is still suffering with his cough, and now has to babysit his new best friend. As far as Bucky can tell, Howard isn't doing anything of much, except sitting on his ass and distracting Steve from his work, and if he's got any notion of getting his marriage back on track, he's not done anything about it so far. Bucky's dropped by once or twice to bring Steve food and get him away from his desk for ten minutes. Steve is extremely susceptible to illustrator's shoulder, not to mention tension headaches and RSI when he forgets to take a break, which is most of the time. He really wishes Steve didn't have to work so much, so he does what he can by bullying Steve about his posture, and ironing the kinks out of him whenever he gets the chance. Doesn't hurt that massages tend to turn Steve into a gooey, horny mush. That's kind of the way Bucky likes him best. 

Not that he can enjoy it at all right now; every time they get even _close_ to hooking up, Howard finds a way to interrupt. It's not that Bucky _needs_ to have sex with Steve to enjoy his company, he's not that kind of douchebag, but he's still in that dippy honeymoon phase where he just can't _resist_. He's tried being in the same room as Steve without touching, but it's impossible. As soon as he lets his guard down, he finds himself stroking Steve's hair, rubbing one of his shoulders, or kissing his neck until Steve's interested noises turn into moans and he gives up whatever he was trying to concentrate on. 

They're all watching some crappy reality TV show, because Bucky found Steve asleep on his sketches and had to force him to eat. It was a pretty natural progression to crashing on the couch, and then holding hands, then Steve's feet in his lap, and -

"Hey, Barnes, sure you don't want a beer?"

Bucky's knuckles tighten, making a fist around all the shit he wishes he could say to Howard. 

"He doesn't drink," Steve says, for maybe the seventh time, with an edge to his voice that Bucky's rarely heard. Steve definitely gets angry, but it's quick like a match strike, and he's swift to mete out justice when it's needed. Steve is usually fairly good with people, so Bucky's not used to the simmering discomfort of Steve _not knowing how to handle this guy_ , not knowing how to rein him in, because it's clear that Howard did all the talking in their relationship. 

"My mistake," Howard says, snapping open another beer and saluting Bucky with the bottle as he takes a sip. He has the faintest smirk, which might as well be painted on, he so rarely lets it slip. Bucky wonders what Steve would say if he punched the guy. "So, _Bucky_ ," he goes on, using that weird inflection on Bucky's name again, as if he can't understand the sounds or how they relate to Bucky as a human being. It's as insulting as it's intended to be. "How'd you lose the arm?"

"Howard-" Steve snaps in a warning tone, but Bucky's had enough. 

"Bar fight," he says, gently moving Steve's feet off his lap. "Some big guy ripped it off, so I beat him to death with it for asking too many dumb fucking questions."

Howard lets out a peal of hysterical laughter. Whether he thinks Bucky is trying to kid around with him, or whether that was just a shit attempt at intimidation (which it kind of was), Bucky isn't sure and he doesn't care. He picks up his feet to step over a discarded bowl of popcorn, and Steve reaches out to brush his wrist. 

"Bucky-"

"I gotta go home, Steve. Work." He stalks to the door, aware that Steve is shadowing him from the room. 

"Bucky, please," Steve whispers. He hovers a couple of feet away, as if afraid of coming too close, and Bucky forces himself to find half a smile.

"You know I didn't actually beat a guy with my own arm," he mutters, reaching out for Steve. "C'mere."

Steve burrows into his chest, but the set of his shoulders, the tension returning where Bucky had worked it all out this afternoon, tells him that Steve is more angry than upset. "What do I do," Steve mumbles, his voice almost lost in Bucky's hoodie.

There's one obvious answer to that, but Bucky won't give it, because whatever else may be going on, he can't be the one to tell Steve to throw a friend out into the street. Even if he is a total fuckin' d-bag. "Come over," Bucky says, pushing his lips against Steve's temple. "Take a couple of hours off from Honey Boo Boo."

Steve snorts and scrunches his fingers up in the hoodie, his fists hard against Bucky's ribs. "I'm sorry, if I leave I'll never wanna come back, and I have so much work to do." He sounds a little like he might cry, and Bucky _really_ doesn't want to make this more difficult, so he just nods and kisses Steve on the top of his head and steps away. 

"I'll give you guys some space," Bucky says. "Just for a couple of days."

"I'll sort this out," Steve promises. "He'll be gone tomorrow."

Bucky takes a deep breath, because he's trying to be a better guy, a guy who deserves Steve, so he doesn't say _you said that yesterday_ and he definitely doesn't say _and the day before too_ , as much as he might want to. He just curls his hand around the side of Steve's neck and kisses him, soft and deep. Steve's hands tighten in his clothes again and he _bites_ and the kiss turns hard and vicious and needy -

"Steve! Hey, kiddo, check this shit out!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky mutters, pulling away abruptly. "I'll - I'll see you later, Steve. Get some sleep."

He's out the door before Steve can protest, and he doesn't stop to think until he's got his back to his own front door, the sound of the slam still loud in his ears. He barely takes one step inside before his phone starts ringing. It would probably be best not to answer, to give them both some space, but even as he's thinking this, he's answering the call with a smile already stealing onto his face. 

"We need to learn semaphore or something."

"Just called to say goodnight," Steve says quietly. Bucky can hear him walking up the stairs on the other end, then the quiet thud of his bedroom door closing. 

"Not staying up to make s'mores with your pal?"

"Bucky, shut the fuck up," Steve says, but his tone is light and he doesn't mean anything by it.

"Okay then," Bucky says gently. "Goodnight, Steve."

"Yeah," Steve whispers, and there's a hitch in his breath that gives him away immediately.

"Steven Rogers." Bucky knows he does a good scandalized voice. "Are you lying to me? Did you call me just to talk smut?"

There's a pause, a long intake of breath. "Yeah," Steve breathes out slowly. 

Bucky groans, and thinks about how much he really doesn't want to go back in the same house as Howard, how two minutes earlier he'd been resolved to give Steve a break. "You wanna come over?"

"I, no-" Bucky's disappointed, but Steve isn't finished. "I really - I like listening to your voice. I thought you could talk me through it, tell me what to do."

"You make it sound like you're delivering a baby," Bucky says, maybe doing it a little bit on purpose, because Steve just took his breath away with that and he needs a second to work out what to say.

Steve is not impressed. He makes a grossed out noise at Bucky. "Way to kill the mood, ass."

"Okay, forget I said anything. Tell me what you're wearing."

Steve groans. "You just saw me. Just look out your window."

"Hang on." Bucky takes the stairs two at a time, hitting the light switch with his shoulder as he walks into his room. He can already see Steve silhouetted in the light from his bedroom. As soon as he sees Bucky he grins and puts his hand up on the glass. 

"There you are."

Bucky grins and cradles the phone with his shoulder so he can put his hand up too. "Hey. Missed you."

There's a soft sigh on the other end, and he can hear the smile in Steve's voice. "This really sucks, huh?"

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. Right now I just wanna watch you touch yourself." Steve moans, and wastes no time in shoving his jeans down and sliding his hand inside his boxers. "That's good, I like that. Whole street can see this, y'no."

"Don't care," Steve mutters, and Bucky can't drag his eyes away from the slow twist of Steve's arm. "As long as you're watching."

"I won't even blink."

"Mm, tell me what to do," Steve says, voice low and sultry. They're skirting the edge of ridiculous, but it's Steve, and so it just works even though it probably shouldn't.

"Okay." Bucky sits on the edge of his bed where he still has a good view of Steve. "But you're gonna need two hands, better put me on speaker." He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about the possibility of Howard overhearing, but he was doing this for Steve, not for revenge. Mostly not for revenge.

Steve, again, wastes no time. He sets the phone down on the windowsill and looks over expectantly. "Bucky?"

"Put your fingers in your mouth."

"Oh god, okay-"

"Suck on them. Pretend it's me."

Steve's voice comes out muffled this time, just a wordless string of noises, and Bucky watches his hand move faster in his boxers.

"Don't rush," Bucky says sternly. "We're gonna enjoy this."

Steve groans in protest, but he obediently slows the movement of his right arm, stroking himself with long, firm movements. Bucky wants to ask him to undress more but he also doesn't want to push Steve into stripping in front of his whole street: that seems kind of cruel. Because of course Steve would do it without hesitation but that doesn't mean he wouldn't regret it later when the elderly couple or the family with young kids report him to the cops. "I'm thinking about how you would taste right now," Bucky says, low and dirty. "About what it would feel like to just sit back and let you fuck my mouth as hard as you want."

"Oh shit, Bucky, Bucky-" Steve gasps, his fingers falling from his mouth and clutching at the front of his shirt. 

"Pull your shirt up," Bucky instructs. "Grab your nipple." He watches Steve fumble with his t-shirt, watches the bulge of his knuckles beneath the fabric. "I said grab it," Bucky says, making his voice go hard. "Pull on it, don't just stroke it like a fucking kitten."

Steve whimpers, a break in his voice that means Bucky's doing the right thing. "Keep moving your hand nice and slow, there's a good boy, let me watch."

"Are you - Bucky, are you-"

"This one's about you, Steve. Now put that other hand on your dick."

Steve slides his hand down slow, dragging it over his stomach and hip, lingering a few seconds before he pushes it into his underwear with his right. His hips judder, head straining backwards. Bucky wishes to god he could get up behind Steve right now, run his tongue up Steve's spine, get his fingers around those tautened muscles. "Feels good," Steve whispers, breathy and heady. "How should I do it?"

"Right hand around the bottom, left hand on top," Bucky's mouth has gone dry, and he pauses to lick his lips, "imagine that hand is my mouth and fuck it, nice and slow, and deep." 

There's a string of whimpered noises on the other end again that sounds like Steve trying to make words, but he's at Bucky's favorite stage of fucking him, where his words just dissolve into sounds and gestures and it's impossible to get any real meaning out of him besides what he can see and feel. "I wanna-" Steve says, the words staccato as if he's struggling to form them, "fuck - I, god, _Bucky_."

Bucky's getting pretty good at translating Steve, and he's fairly sure that means Steve wants to fuck him. Since the memorable incident on the floor Steve's already screwed him four more times, and he's simultaneously the gentlest and most brutal fuck Bucky's ever had. He's so hard right now it hurts, and he pauses in his instruction to wriggle out of his jeans, which is pretty fucking complicated when he's only got one hand and it's already occupied holding the phone. "Hang on, Steve," he mutters, setting it on speaker and putting it down on the bed.

"Are you - ahh, going somewhere?"

"No baby, just taking my jeans off because my dick's about to break the fucking zipper otherwise."

Steve gasps and Bucky glances up just in time to see his head come forward to lean on the glass, his whole body shuddering. "You better not be finishing without me," Bucky chides, though he can tell by the noises that Steve isn't quite there yet.

"You called me baby," Steve says, half gasp, half giggle. 

"Mmm, that's right, baby," Bucky mutters, wrestling his pants onto the floor and grabbing the phone again. He wants to touch himself so badly, but more than that he wants Steve's voice right in his ear, as close as he can get it. 

"Bucky?" Steve whispers, his voice arcing out long and breathy.

"Uh huh?"

"I wanna hear you too, I wanna - nngh, shit, please touch yourself for me?"

Bucky has definitely not yet learned the art of saying no to Steve, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn't even have to respond, just jams the phone between his left ear and shoulder and shoves his hand right in his underwear. 

"Ohhh god that's better."

"I love listening to you," Steve moans. Bucky squints and he can see Steve's still trying to keep his movements slow, but his hips are shuddering. He needs more but he won't ask, Bucky realizes. He's waiting to be told. 

"Fingers in your mouth," Bucky stammers, as he finally, blissfully, wraps his fingers around his own cock. "I want you to come like you're sucking my cock and it's the only thing that gets you off."

Steve makes a broken, wounded sound, and Bucky sees the silhouette of his hand fly up to his mouth. He makes so much noise, there's no way Howard hasn't worked out what's going on, and that makes Bucky feel both hot and furious. He grips himself harder and focuses on imagining Steve's tongue pressing around his own fingers, his mouth closing around Bucky's dick, the way he always fastens his lips around the end first, warm and proprietary. 

"Faster, Steve," he gasps, "come on, lemme watch you come."

That's pretty much all the encouragement Steve needs, and within twenty seconds Bucky watches, open-mouthed, while Steve slams one hand against the windowframe, his body curling over and then arching out like a bow as he shoots his load all over the glass. Bucky's ears are full of the sound of him, the whisper of his tight chest, the song of his voice breaking and coming together on an intake of breath, and breaking again. Bucky can't even come, he's stunned into silence, almost holding his breath so he doesn't miss a second of the noises Steve is making. 

"Bu-cky," Steve whispers, almost too low for him to hear, his name split into two loose, needy syllables. That's when he comes, with the sound of Steve's throat deep inside him, his dick only halfway out of his boxers. "Oh god," Steve mutters, "you sound amazing, Bucky-"

Bucky sighs and flops back onto the bed, wiping his hand on the sheets. "Oh man."

There's a pause. Then, "Buck?"

"Hey," he says, warm and gentle. Steve doesn't say anything back, but Bucky hears him move around and then the faint creak of the bedsprings as he lies down and gets comfortable. The minutes stretch out, as they just listen to each other's breathing. 

"Hey, Steve?" Bucky says eventually.

Steve makes a muffled sound and stifles a yawn. "Hmm?"

"Oh my god, did you fall asleep?"

"Mm, 's nice."

Bucky laughs and holds the phone close. "Get some rest, okay? And don't work too hard tomorrow."

"T'much t'do," Steve mumbles. "G'night."

"Good night, baby," Bucky says, listening to Steve snort with quiet, sleepy laughter before he hangs up. Bucky doesn't bother cleaning up, too happy in his post-orgasm cocoon, he just scrambles across the bed to reach for the light switch, then climbs under the sheets and goes straight to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky's true to his word for the next two days. He doesn't go over to Steve and Peggy's place, and he keeps his eyes averted from the windows because if he even catches a glimpse of Steve, he's gonna need to go and touch him. It isn't easy, but he gets a flurry of texts every couple of hours from Steve every time his patience gets tested, and reassuring/calming him down keeps Bucky sane. Steve seems to be on track with his plan to chuck Howard out, or at least he says he is, even if it's taking a little longer than intended. 

To keep himself busy, Bucky calls Dugan and begs him to go for a drink. "Seriously, we can go anywhere you like, just please get me out of here."

Dugan almost takes him to a bar, because apparently he can tell just from Bucky's tone of voice that he's gonna need whiskey to listen to this, but in the end they wander through Central Park instead. Dugan buys him a popsicle.

"What's going on? This about Cap?"

Bucky sighs and licks some sticky popsicle juice off his wrist. "Kinda. Not exactly."

He explains about Howard, using a lot of colorful language, and Dugan nods and insults Stark at appropriate moments in the story. 

"This guy sounds like an ass," he says when Bucky is done.

Bucky shrugs. "He kind of is, but I feel a bit bad for him too." 

"Why the hell would you?"

"Well, he dated Peggy too, before Steve. He managed to lose both of them, and now he's lost Maria. Sucks to be him."

"Sucks to be them for dating him in the first place."

Bucky bursts out laughing, more grateful than ever that he called Dugan, who always knows just how to cheer him up. 

"So that's all that's bothering you?" he asks eventually. "This Stark guy?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, pausing to throw his popsicle stick in a trash can. "No, it's not just that."

Dugan rolls his eyes, and sets himself down on the nearby park bench. "Okay, tiger. Better start from the top."

"It's not that bad," Bucky says, giving him a half-assed kick in the shin. He takes a seat beside him. "I - I really wanna tell Steve how I feel about him and I don't know how."

Dugan looks at him sidelong. "That's it?" 

"That ain't enough?"

"Well, you just say, hey Cap, I love you." Dugan raises his eyebrows. "That won't cut it?"

" _No_ ," Bucky says, frowning. He groans and leans back against the wooden slats of the bench, but before he can put together a satisfactory explanation, he hears someone calling his name. He and Dugan both look around, and Bucky sees a heavily pregnant woman walking over to them, waving enthusiastically. Bucky squints in the sunshine, then he feels his gut seize with anxiety when he recognizes her. It's Maria.

He gets awkwardly to his feet as she approaches, grinning at them both. "Bucky, Dugan," she says, with a slightly harassed, but genuine smile. "How are you guys? I haven't seen you since the wedding!" Bucky notices her eyes linger over his left arm, but she doesn't say anything so he guesses she must've heard about the accident from someone. 

"Great, thanks," Bucky says, with a significant glance at her belly. "Congratulations, huh?"

She smiles tightly and rests her hand on top of her stomach. "Yeah, not long to go."

"That's fantastic, Maria, good for you," Dugan says, his tone coming out patronizing and insincere. Bucky shoots him a glare, and he shrugs. "Listen I'm really sorry but I have to get to work, why don't you guys grab a coffee." He wiggles his eyebrows at Bucky, and his significant look is about as subtle as a smack in the jaw. "You can _talk_." He kisses Maria's cheek and ruffles Bucky's hair, which he hates, and takes off.

Maria looks a bit disconcerted. "Did I say something?"

Bucky straightens his hair with his fingers, then shoves his hand in his pocket. "No, he's just got the social awareness of a shit-flinging chimpanzee sometimes." Bucky offers her a crooked smile. "Wanna get that coffee? I got nowhere to be."

It's not until they're actually sitting in the café that Bucky realizes he's got no idea how to approach this conversation. No, he doesn't like Howard, but he also thinks Maria was a little harsh to toss the guy out. He finds himself wondering if her pregnant hormones contributed to the decision, and he cuts that line of thought off abruptly. 

"So," he says, bringing over the tray and setting it neatly on the table. Maria had tried to insist on doing it, but Bucky tells her that if a heavily pregnant woman carries a tray for him out of pity, he'll probably have to drown himself. "What's been going on with you?"

Maria reaches for her drink in silence, takes a sip, and then bursts into tears. Bucky really feels like punching Dugan. "Hey," he mutters, reaching for her hand. "Maria, hey. What's wrong?"

She grabs onto his fingers and picks up a paper napkin with her other hand to wipe her eyes. "Shit," she mutters, wiping away a smear of mascara. "I'm so sorry, my hormones are all over."

"Don't apologize," Bucky says sternly. "Never apologize for how you feel." He squeezes her hand and smiles. "I learned that the hard way."

Maria nods and dabs at her eyes again with the napkin. "Yeah, but you didn't sign on to listen to my bullshit."

Bucky shrugs. "We're here, we're friends, and I'm a good listener." He lets go of her hand to pick up his coffee. "Shoot."

"I really shouldn't go into it. You remember my husband?"

"We've met, yeah."

"Well, I'm not so sure he's going to be my husband for much longer." Maria looks down at her lap and rubs her hand over her belly in slow circles.

Bucky makes a sympathetic face, then worries that his expression looks false and overcompensates. "Uh, I'm really sorry to hear that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

She sniffs loudly and dabs at her eyes again. "I don't know what to say about it. We had a fight, but I'm still not sure what it was about. He's been acting strange for months, I thought maybe he was having an affair, but when I tried to talk to him about it he went crazy. Just packed a bag and walked out and I haven't seen or heard from him in more than a week."

"Wait, you didn't throw him out?"

Maria laughs bitterly. "I'm due to give birth in three weeks and I can't tie my own sneakers," she says, with a self-deprecating smile. "And I guess I still kind of love the guy. Why would I throw him out?"

Bucky opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, searching for the right thing to say. "I dunno," he mumbles, looking down into his coffee. "Do you really think he's cheating?" Bucky asks, thinking of the way Howard had leaned possessively into Steve at that party all those weeks ago. He doesn't believe for a second that Steve would go behind his back, but he still can't help it jumping into his head. But then he realizes, it's got nothing to do with him either way. "Shit, sorry, don't answer that. It's none of my business."

Maria shrugs. "It's okay. Honestly, I don't know. I wouldn't have thought he was the type, but I didn't think he was the type to run out on his kid either. I guess you never really know someone."

That isn't something Bucky wants to think about. He knows only too well the dangers of letting yourself go with someone and then finding out they're not who you thought they were. He's still half terrified of it happening with Steve. "Maybe he's planning to come back."

"Before or after the christening, you reckon?" she quips, and Bucky wonders how the _hell_ she can bear this so calmly and with such good humor. He figures if any woman is a match for Howard Stark, this is the one. She sighs and sips her tea. "I'm sorry, really, thank you for listening."

"You needed to talk."

She nods, wordless, and Bucky watches her face as she struggles to hold it together and wins out. It reminds him of why they were friends in college, how strong she is. He regrets cutting her out of his life along with everyone else he possibly could. "Hey, Maria?" He puts down his drink and reaches his hand out to her. She takes it with a watery smile. "I'm really glad I ran into you."

"Me too," she says, squeezing his hand. Her expression muddies for a second, and she gives him the tiniest frown. "Wait, you're not - oh god this is gonna sound so stupid, but are you hitting on me?"

It is, surprisingly, the thing Bucky most needed to hear, and he dissolves into helpless laughter. "No," he gasps out between giggles. "No, I swear."

"Okay," she says, looking relieved. "I mean you're gorgeous, Bucky, but I kind of have a lot going on right now."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Which might be the wrong thing to say, because it reminds him of Howard sitting on Steve's couch, and telling them that Maria is having an affair, that Maria is the one who threw him out. "Listen," he says, forcing the mirth from his expression. "I need to talk to you about something."

 

 

The worst part, he thinks after he's told her, is the way she doesn't seem very surprised. 

"I never met Steve," she says sadly, "but I knew about him, obviously." She sighs and rests her hand on her baby bump without thinking. "I don't think he'd admit it, but Howard really loved Steve. I don't think he knew what to do with that."

Bucky just sits back, stunned. "What makes you think that?"

She offers him a sad smile. "Oh, a wife knows. I know Howard loves me, in his way. Or he did. But Steve -" she sighs and shakes her head. "I think Steve might have been the one for him, whether either of them knew it or not."

Bucky finds that he has nothing to say that. He swallows and opens his mouth a couple of times, searching for something to respond with. Most of him wants to tell Maria to move the fuck on with her life, that she can do so much better than Howard, but he doesn't feel like he's got the right. Especially knowing that Howard may or may not be a little bit in love with his boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," Maria says, catching his lost expression. "I - shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, not when you - I'm just being morose, and it's nothing to do with you and Steve anymore."

"Hey, your husband has run away to my boyfriend's couch. I'm involved, like it or not."

Maria shakes her head again, and then she crashes her elbows onto the table and buries her face in her hands. "When the fuck did life get so complicated?" she moans, her breath jumping in her throat. "When did I start getting _old_?"

Bucky gets out of his chair and goes to crouch beside her. "Hey, now," he says gently, putting his hand on her back. "Come on, it's okay." She lets herself be cajoled into accepting his arm around her shoulders, and she turns her face into his neck, although he notices the subtle way she leans away from his left side, and it makes his stomach clench. 

"What am I gonna do?" she moans quietly against his shoulder. 

"Why don't you come back with me, talk to him?"

Maria shakes her head. "We've made enough trouble for you. I'll - I'll call him."

"I'll talk to him," Bucky says, pulling back from her. He pushes his hair back off his forehead with a weary sigh. "I need him to tell Steve the truth. You get that, right?"

She nods, biting down on her trembling lower lip. "I wish he could've got this out of his system nine months ago," she says quietly.

Bucky shakes his head and strokes her arm. "Honey, whatever happens, you are gonna be such a good mom to this baby."

She flashes him a reluctant smile, and roots through her purse for another tissue. "Jesus," she mutters, taking a deep breath. "What a mess." She pushes her coffee cup aside. "Let me get you another? I wanna hear about you and Steve."

It's the last thing Bucky wants right now, but she looks so miserable, so desperate that he not send her off home on her own just yet, that he cannot find it in him to say no. He tries to deflect the conversation away from his and Steve's relationship as much as possible, because no matter what Maria says, it's clear as day that she can't help but compare herself to Howard's ex. Bucky gets the sense that it's been on her mind for a long, long time, pushed to the back where it couldn't cause trouble, but still there, waiting to be set off. It breaks his heart, because Maria is great just as she is, and his disapproval of Howard Stark flips over into despising him at the thought of Howard finding this wonderful woman and making her miserable.

He stays for another forty minutes or so before he makes his excuses, and Maria says something about needing to get home anyway. They swap numbers and promise to meet up soon, and Bucky hugs her again and wishes her luck with the baby. He thinks about how much Steve would love babysitting, and he thinks, maybe when she throws Howard's stupid ass out on the street like he deserves, maybe then. 

"Take care of yourself," he says, waving goodbye as he walks backwards. He turns his back before he can think about how small and broken Maria looks, standing on the sidewalk alone. 

 

 

When he gets home, he's hot and sweaty from walking around in the sun all afternoon, and he badly wants a shower, but he also needs to inform Steve about the way Howard's being lying to his fucking face as soon as possible. He's tried shooting Steve a couple of texts but he must be working or something because there's been no response. It makes sense when he reaches Steve's house and hears the jazz that's blasting out of the den, spilling into the street even though the windows are closed. He stands there for a moment looking in through the window, and is rewarded with the sight of Steve, dancing drunkenly into view. It's just getting dark out, enough that he's silhouetted against the low light from inside the room, and Bucky pauses for a second to watch him with a smile on his face. Steve doesn't really dance, not unless he's had some alcohol inducement, and then he _really_ dances. 

Bucky still has the spare key Steve gave him when he was sick, so while he does try knocking on the door, he doesn't expect an answer. After a minute of waiting politely, he lets himself in. He lets the door bang shut behind him but he's pretty sure they won't have heard it over the music slamming out of the den. Bucky will be amazed if nobody's complained about the noise yet. He does over to the doorway and halts mid step. Steve and Howard are dancing, and as Bucky walks up, Howard leans in and kisses Steve. It looks like Howard is maybe more into it, but Steve doesn't say no or push him away. Bucky grabs for the door frame when Howard pushes Steve down onto the coffee table as the music trails away, and climbs over him, kissing his neck. He finds the spot behind Steve's ear that makes him mewl like a kitten, the sound deafening in the newly quiet room. 

Bucky feels sick. He wants to throw up, or look away, but he _can't_. He's paralyzed by a huge mass of jealousy he doesn't understand, can't begin to untangle. It's not about Steve, it's not about him being with someone else because Bucky really thinks he could stand that, but he can't stand Howard Stark, the bastard, the filthy fucking _homewrecker_ climbing all over his boyfriend and whispering lies in his ear.

"Mm," Steve moans quietly, as Howard kisses down over his chest, sticking a hand up his t-shirt and rucking it up. Bucky grits his teeth. "Wait," Steve mumbles, as Howard kisses down to his hipbone and runs his hands up and down Steve's thighs. "Wait, I don't think I want to."

"Shh," Howard whispers, trying to soothe. "Don't worry, nobody has to know."

Bucky nearly shouts, but he sees the panic tear across Steve's face and it holds him back. 

"Get off," Steve says in a low voice. Howard unfastens Steve's jeans, smiling with his head on one side, and Steve growls and pushes at his shoulder. "Stop it! I don't want to."

Howard groans and comes up to kiss him again, cupping Steve's jaw roughly. "You always wanted this," he mutters, gnawing at Steve's mouth. "It's just between us, don't worry."

"I said get off," Steve yells, pushing him away weakly. He tries to sit up, but Howard pushes him down again, and Bucky finally manages to make his feet work. He can hear the panic in Steve's voice, the shallow breaths as he starts to hyperventilate, struggling against Stark who's trying to pin him to the table, whispering platitudes to sedate him. Bucky stumbles up against the couch, banging his knee against it hard as he stumbles around it.

"Howard, let me go - Howard stop it, let go, please-" Steve starts thrashing out with his arms and legs, shoulders and elbows knocking against the wooden surface of the coffee table. He tries to jam his knee between Howard's thighs, but it looks like he can't get the angle right from where he is. 

"Steve, calm down!" Howard shouts, right before Bucky reaches him.

He seizes Stark by his shirt collar and hauls him away from Steve, using the momentum to throw him backwards onto the floor. "Get the _fuck_ away from him!" he yells, moving between him and Steve. Stark sprawls on the rug with a yelp.

"Woah, woah!" he says loudly, holding up his arms to defend himself when Bucky leans over him. "Calm down, Barnes! Steve and I were just having a little fun. It doesn't mean anything."

"You've got three minutes to get your things and get out," Bucky snarls, panting heavily as he stares Howard down with his shoulders squared and his eyes burning. Stark scowls at him, then he looks over at Steve with a softening, desperate look to him. 

"Steve?"

"Don't you fucking look at him," Bucky spits, reaching down to grab Stark by his collar. "You lying piece of shit, you don't deserve to look at him."

"Bucky, hold it-"

" _No_ , Steve," Bucky snaps. "Tell him the truth, Stark."

Howard licks his lips nervously, his eyes still locked on Steve's face. "Steve, I didn't mean it-"

The _smack_ as Bucky's fist connects with Howard's face is like a whipcrack, brutally painful but satisfying as hell. "What the fuck," Steve mutters, looking down at Howard sprawled on the floor. Bucky stands over him like a prize fighter, trying to hold himself back from giving the guy another solid punch. He's not sure his knuckles will take it. "Jesus, Bucky, where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"Mosh pits," Bucky mutters, reaching down to grab Howard by the scruff of his shirt and hauling him upright. "Tell him the truth," he growls. 

Howard groans as he struggles to his feet, and he wipes a huge smear of blood off his face. "Maria never threw me out," he snaps, glaring sidelong at Bucky. "I left."

Steve's gasp makes Bucky turn to look at him. He's pushed up on one elbow, and he struggles to a sitting position. "Why?" he asks, barely above a whisper. 

"Maria's pregnant."

Stark turns a shocked expression on Bucky, but he hides it just as quick. "Fuck you, Barnes."

"What the fuck, Howard?" Steve shouts, pushing himself to his feet. "You skipped out on your pregnant wife - for what? A few quickies with the ex before you go back to being happily married?"

"Fuck you!" Howard yells again, glaring up at Steve through red-rimmed eyes. "I - shit, Steve, I'm scared, I'm fucking terrified-"

"Time's almost up," Bucky says coldly.

Howard shakes his head. Tears track his red cheeks, and he looks right at Steve, as if Bucky doesn't even exist. "Steve, don't-"

"Get out of my house," Steve hisses at him, surging past Bucky's shoulder. "If I ever see you here again, I'll call the police."

Howard's mouth works, opening and closing several times as he takes half a step backwards. He finally snaps it shut and looks from one to the other of them. Bucky narrows his eyes, and Howard looks away. He staggers to the door, not bothering to stop and look for his stuff. 

Bucky waits until the door has closed behind him, and checks to make sure he's actually gone, before he comes back to where Steve is standing right where he left him, stunned and empty looking. Bucky touches him with urgent, delicate fingers, putting his hand on the back of Steve's neck and searching Steve's eyes for a promise that he's okay. 

"Did he hurt you?" he asks in a proprietary voice. "Stevie?" 

Steve shakes his head, grasping at Bucky's shirt. "I'm so sorry," he babbles, "I'm such a fucking idiot, I'm sorry, you were right."

Bucky clutches him tight and puts his hand up to stroke Steve's hair. "No, baby," he whispers, "no you're not, you're not an idiot."

"'m so stupid," Steve whines, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Bucky."

"Don't apologize for wanting someone to be better than they are," Bucky says sternly. He kisses Steve's temple and hugs him with his left arm.

"'m glad you're here."

Bucky sighs heavily and clutches him close. "Yeah, me too. Sure you're okay?"

"Uh huh." Steve's arms wind around his neck and they hold one another tight, Bucky's fingers on the back of Steve's neck. He rubs into Steve's soft, damp hair to comfort him while he rocks him gently. Part of him is tempted to tempted to just call the police anyway, but unfortunately he knows how well that would go down. Ex-boyfriend, alcohol, no damage done - Bucky was the only one to throw a punch, and Stark is rich: he'll probably come off worse out of the whole thing. 

He pulls back a little and brushes his hand over Steve's forehead, clearing his bangs out of his eyes. "Hey, are you-"

Steve growls. "Dammit, Bucky, if you ask me if I'm okay one more time-"

It's absolutely the wrong moment to smile, but Steve's temper reassures him that everything really is alright. "Actually I was gonna ask if you're hungry."

Steve looks sheepish. "Oh, yeah," he says, with a half smile himself. "I guess so."

Pulling away, Steve glances around at the wreckage. One of Peggy's vases is smashed, struck off the coffee table with a stack of magazines and the remains of a bottle of vodka, and there's a stain on the rug that might be fresh blood. "How much did you guys drink?"

"Not much." Steve sighs. "Not enough for that. Jeez, Bucky, I'm _sorry_."

"I don't want an apology."

Steve lets a deep breath in and out again. "Okay."

"I want to get in bed with you and eat takeaway pizza and watch terrible movies until Peggy gets home."

Steve snorts and his response is noncommittal. "You don't eat pizza. Pizza isn't vegan."

"Neither are you. Doesn't stop me eating you."

"You're a shit vegan."

"You're a bad influence."

Steve bursts out laughing and Bucky just scoops him up in his arms and hugs him tight, because he really felt like he came fucking close to losing Steve tonight, even if that makes no goddamn sense at all, and he has to keep cracking dumb jokes or he might just cry. "Come on, let's go upstairs," he says, popping Steve down on the rug again. "Got a favorite place that delivers?"

Without warning, Steve surges up to kiss him. They melt into each other as Steve pushes their bodies together, flowing up against him, teeth nipping at his lower lip. Steve pulls off again, panting, and Bucky feels his heart clench when he realizes that Steve looks like he's about to cry. 

"Stevie," he murmurs, stroking his cheek.

Steve bats him away and walks into the kitchen, where he starts rattling open drawers and cupboards. He returns a minute later with a takeout menu, pushes it into Bucky's hand, then turns again and stomps away up the stairs.

Bucky decides to give him five minutes, so he calls up the pizza place and orders two big veggie pizzas, makes Steve some cocoa, and goes upstairs to find him. Steve is in his room, the door left just ajar for Bucky to come in after him. He pushes it open a few inches. Steve is curled up on his side, facing away from the door. He doesn't move when Bucky shuts the door behind him, or when he sets down the mug of cocoa and sits behind Steve on the bed. His shoulders quake, once, when Bucky touches him, twice more when Bucky's arm slides around his waist.

"Don't hide from me," Bucky whispers against the nape of his neck. "You never gotta hide from me."

Steve rolls over in his arms and pushes his wet face into Bucky's neck. "I feel like such an idiot," he hisses. "I feel-" his breath catches and he has to pause to let it come through.  
Bucky hugs him hard. "I guess we both know how to pick 'em, huh?"

"God, don't. I can't believe I dated that asshole."

"Well, at least you came to my senses."

Steve shakes his head. "Yeah, he's not my type anymore anyway."

"Yeah? What is?"

Steve looks at him deadly serious. "Don't laugh."

"Okay."

He bites his lip. "Well, I've got this thing for amputees-"

Bucky swats him. "You cheeky little shit," he says, laughing. 

Steve cackles with laughter and burrows into his chest, pressing his cheek against Bucky's heart. "I'm glad Peggy's such a good pimp."

Bucky snorts with laughter. "Yeah," he says, bringing his hand up to cup Steve's head and kissing his messy hair. "Me too."

"Bucky?"

"Uh huh?"

"Can I tell you something?"

Bucky's stomach twists with anticipation. He forces himself to breathe out normally. "Sure, kid."

Steve breathes out hard, hot breath through Bucky's t-shirt. "I'm not a kid," he says a little crossly, but he sounds amused underneath it. 

"Sorry, oh venerable one," Bucky mutters, unable to resist, even though he really wants Steve to get to the fucking point. "What did you wish to tell me?"

Steve sighs and hugs him tighter. "I dunno, it sounds kinda dumb now."

"Tell me anyway."

"I was just - I was thinking, about high school, and the hospital and everything." Steve takes another shuddering breath, and Bucky moves his hand down to rub circles between his shoulder blades. "I feel like I've been waiting to meet you for a really long time, we just both had to be ready. And I'm - I'm really glad we finally got there."

It _is_ kinda dumb, and cheesy, and still Bucky couldn't be happier if Steve had just come out and said he's in love with him. "I know exactly what you mean," he says, grinning wide. "Now, you gonna kiss me or what, vodka breath?"

Steve laughs. "I hate you."

Bucky shakes his head, and leans in to tuck his forehead against Steve's. "Can I tell you something too?"

"Uh huh," Steve whispers.

"I should've told you this weeks ago," he mutters, and watches Steve's smile catch. 

"You love me," Steve says, interrupting him. 

Bucky looks surprised, but he laughs and nods his head. "Yeah, I do."

"I love you too."

They both lean in to kiss at the same time, and Bucky feels like his whole body is lighting up inside. "Way to ruin my moment," he says gently, as they pull apart.

Steve grins. "You'll have plenty more chances to tell me." He traces his finger around the shell of Bucky's ear. "I'm not stupid, Buck. I know the last person you fell in love with _literally almost killed you_. It's not a big deal if you have trouble talking about that."

Hope makes him feel light and dizzy, and Bucky nods as he gathers Steve against him. "I'm really glad we finally met," he whispers.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this chapter is purely Bucky/Steve/Peggy smut, in case you're violently opposed to that :)
> 
> Also it's set six months or so on from the end of the last chapter.

Steve wakes up, warm and honey-slow, snuggled in the heat of another body. He opens his eyes a crack and finds his face tucked up against the back of Peggy's neck, the smell of her hair filling his nose. He smiles and shifts his arm on her waist, and feels the hand on his own stomach slide down to stroke the hair below his bellybutton. Steve sighs happily and presses back into Bucky's chest, smiling when he feels Bucky's morning wood dig into his ass. He remembers falling asleep with one of them, but he can't remember which, not that it matters. Whoever decided to crawl in afterwards, Steve's delighted to find himself sandwiched between his two favourite people.

"Hey," Bucky whispers in his ear.

"Hey yourself," Steve mutters, reaching for Bucky's hand and squeezing it. He pushes it down to the waistband of his pyjamas and wriggles back against Bucky encouragingly. Bucky does not need telling twice, and wastes no time in slipping his fingers inside. For about the millionth time, Steve thanks whatever deity is responsible for giving Bucky such talented guitarist's fingers. 

"Shhh," Bucky whispers, kissing the hairline on the nape of his neck, because Steve is already making little whimpering noises in the back of his throat. Bucky twists his hand, putting pressure in _just_ the right place, and Steve bucks forwards without meaning to, pressing Bucky's hand and his dick into Peggy's ass. 

"You two are about as subtle as a freight train," she mumbles sleepily, before rolling over to face Steve. She gives Bucky a mock stern look over Steve's shoulder.

"Why is that your favourite saying?" Steve asks grumpily as Bucky starts to withdraw his hand. 

Peggy catches his wrist and shakes her head. "Don't stop," she says, still looking at Bucky. "He likes it from behind like this."

Steve moans and Bucky takes a proper grip on his dick. "Yes Ma'am," he says, and Steve can _hear_ the grin in his voice. 

"Would you like some privacy?" Peggy asks, looking at Steve.

He bites his lip, hesitating. It's a long time since he and Peggy have fooled around, and they'd been drunk at the time, but he doesn't want to push Bucky into anything. Luckily the decision is taken out of his hands by Bucky pressing closer and saying, "I think we'd like it if you to tell me what to do to him."

Peggy smiles, but she looks at Steve first to check that he's okay with it. He nods, and she leans in to kiss him gently. "I can do that."

She grabs hold of Steve's pyjama bottoms and pulls, waiting while he lifts his hip off the bed, before yanking them down to his knees. "That's better," she says with a predatory look on her face. 

"What should I do?" Bucky asks, breathless and eager, one of the most beautiful sounds Steve has ever heard.

Peggy looks at Steve, her dark eyes searching his face intently. "Put your mouth on his cock," she says, the words sounding filthier than they would on anyone else thanks to her pristine accent. "I know how much he likes your mouth." She quirks her eyebrow at Steve, her expression full of mischief, but he doesn't get a chance to react before Bucky rolls him onto his back and clambers on top of him. 

"Take it slow," Peggy instructs, reaching up to put her hand on Bucky's shoulder. His left shoulder, Steve notices, but Bucky doesn't flinch or shrug her off. "Kiss him first."  
Bucky is surprisingly good at following orders. He hovers over Steve, hair falling in his eyes, bracing himself with his right arm while he leans down to kiss Steve's mouth, softly. He keeps his teeth out of it, at first - Bucky's a biter, usually the first sign he wants to have sex is that he'll start chewing on Steve's fingers or his shoulder, or he'll lean in for a kiss where he gnaws and scrapes Steve's lips between his teeth - but for now he just kisses, pausing now and then to nuzzle at Steve's throat or his earlobe. 

"I'm waiting, Bucky," Peggy says in a stern voice, putting light pressure on his shoulder. 

Bucky grins and leans down to nip Steve's ear, pausing just to whisper, "I love you." He holds Steve's gaze for a few seconds, before he does as he's told and starts laying down a trail of kisses from Steve's jaw, down the side of his neck, and via one nipple to his left hip. Bucky settles to the side of him, so he can lean on his left side and keep his arm free to touch Steve.

"Bucky-" he mutters, and smiles. "Love you too, punk." Bucky's face splits into a grin, before he turns his head and pulls Steve's dick into his mouth. Steve doesn't think he'll ever get tired of Bucky blowing him. He'd been good when they met, now with a few month's practise in Steve's tastes, he's fucking mindblowing. It doesn't hurt that Steve gets distracted every time Bucky does _literally anything_ with his mouth, whether he's singing along to the radio, licking an envelope, or on one memorable occasion, flossing his teeth. 

"Don't rush." Peggy's voice cuts in, reminding Steve that they still have company. He'd got so caught up in Bucky, he'd managed to forget that she's still there. He turns his head and gives her a dopey smile, which she returns - though much less dopily. "Everything okay, soldier?"

Steve sighs and leans in to kiss her, groaning suddenly when Bucky sucks harder. "Peggy," he whispers against her mouth.

"Mm?"

"You're the best friend in the world."

"Steve?" she murmurs.

"Uh huh."

"Don't you dare come until I saw so."

"Oh god," Steve groans, covering his face with his hands. He can feel Bucky moan, hot breath on his dick and against his thigh. 

He kind of wants Peggy to touch him too, or maybe he wants her to touch Bucky more. He wonders if she's holding back from touching them because she's not sure how far she's allowed to go, and he sure as hell wishes they'd thought to discuss it beforehand. As soon as this is over he's drawing up a contract outlining all permutations, boundaries and safewords, just in case. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

"Bucky," Peggy says gently, and Steve can tell there's more mischief on its way. "Tell me, how much does Steve like you to finger him while you suck him off?"

Steve glances down as Bucky pulls off, his grin spit-slick and red. "So much," he says, biting his lip. "But I think you already knew that."

"I wanted to hear you say it."

Peggy slides open the bedside drawer – Steve is so grateful she knows where he keeps all his sex toys – and pulls out the lube. It's half empty, and she gives Steve an amused look. "Didn't you only buy this last week? No wonder you've been in such a good mood."

She reaches for Bucky's hand, and he holds it out obediently. "Two fingers," she says, glancing at Steve as she squeezes some lube on Bucky's fingers. "Lift up your hips, sweetie." She grabs a pillow and nudges at Steve's side, so he lifts up his ass and lets her slide it underneath, propping him up. Bucky crawls between his thighs and wedges his left shoulder under Steve's thigh so he can get better access.

Steve gasps as Bucky's fingertips stroke over his ass, and he pushes one finger in. Steve rolls his head to look at Peggy. "He's only using one."

Peggy's hand whips out and she slaps Bucky hard on the thigh, the sound echoing through the room like a whipcrack. Bucky whimpers, and Steve feels the hot exhale of breath on his thigh. "I said two, didn't I?"

"Yes," he mutters, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. Steve doesn't think anything he's done has ever made Bucky look at him _quite_ like that. They don't look away from each other while Bucky shifts his weight and works in another finger. It's a little uncomfortable at first, but Bucky's eyes on him make it impossibly hot, and his dick jumps. It's tight, but Peggy knows what he can take. She leans over and rubs her hand over his belly.

"Everything alright?"

"Better than," Steve whispers, still watching Bucky's face. 

"You want his mouth on you, don't you?"

Steve laughs. "Usually." 

"Bucky."

Bucky laughs self-consciously, and Steve instinctively reaches down to help him. Normally he holds himself back from doing anything for Bucky, not because Bucky ever asked him not to, but because he knows how much he'd hate it himself. In bed though, the rules are different, and he would do literally anything to make it as good for Bucky as he can. He worries Peggy might stop him, but clearly Peggy is going to draw the dom line at torturing a cripple because she doesn't say anything when he grabs his dick and angles it towards Bucky's mouth. 

Bucky latches onto it without hesitation, swallowing it down as if he's been just waiting for the opportunity to get it back in his mouth. He twists his wrist and starts moving his fingers in time with his mouth, quickly working Steve into a pathetic state of moaning, wriggling and breathing heavily. Peggy is still drawing circles on his belly with her fingertip, and occasionally she moves her hand over to stroke Bucky's hair. Steve cracks an eye open when Bucky moans loudly to see she's got her fingers tangled tightly in his hair and wonders how she knew about that. 

"Does he usually swallow?" Peggy asks, still holding onto Bucky's hair. 

Steve thinks he might be about to come so hard that he never comes again, so he just bites his lip hard and shakes his head. 

"Bucky, do you want to suck Steve's cock until he comes in your pretty mouth?"

In response, Bucky just moans and starts bobbing his head faster, his mouth a tight seal on Steve's skin. 

"Alright," Peggy says gently. "Whenever you want."

Steve does not need telling twice. It only takes him maybe another ten seconds, eyes screwed shut so he can focus just on Bucky's mouth, on his beautiful, red, fuckable, full mouth. Steve presses his hands over his eyes, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets as his thighs and his belly shudder, and he comes hard. 

"Oh fuck," he murmurs, a string of sounds all running together "Oh fuck, Bucky, Bucky, shit thank you Peggy thank you Bucky fuck-"

Bucky sucks gently as he shivers through the aftershocks, until it just becomes too much and Steve has to beg him to stop. Bucky doesn't stop until Peggy nods and says, "It's okay, you can stop now", which somehow makes it a hundred times better. 

Steve forces himself into a sitting position with shaking arms, and leans down to kiss Bucky, slow and hard, licking into his mouth and kissing him lazily. He breaks the kiss, presses his forehead to Bucky's, the two of them sharing a secret grin. 

"Hey beautiful," Bucky whispers, his eyes bright, and oh god Steve wants to blow him, so badly, but then when doesn't he? 

"Hey."

"How about some payback?" Bucky glances over at Peggy, who's laying back and touching herself lazily, a contented smile on her face. Steve grins wider. 

"Deal." 

Bucky kisses him. "Make her squirm."

Steve dives under the blankets, and Peggy squeals in surprise when he wriggles up between her legs and slides a hand under her butt. "Steve!" she hisses, her eyes wide but delighted. "What are you doing?"

Instead of replying, he puts his head down and mouths at her pussy through her underwear. 

"Steve - oh my god-"

"I'm a bit rusty," he says, laughing softly. 

Bucky slides his hand up Steve's back, making him shiver. "Your tongue is anything but rusty." 

Peggy makes a soft, breathy noise, and Steve nuzzles in to the rich-scented heat of her. Bucky shifts on the mattress behind him and Steve hears the drawer opening again. A minute later, Bucky presses at his ass again, slippery fingers pulling him open. Steve hooks his fingers in Peggy's underwear and pulls it down, waiting while she shuffles around and extricates herself from them. Steve grabs her hips and hauls her back into place, loving the quiet, surprised noises she makes. Once she gets going, Peggy is anything but quiet in bed, but she usually sleeps away from home when she's dating, and he's fairly sure Bucky hasn't yet got to experience it in person. Steve seriously can't wait, because nothing gets Bucky going like noisy sex.

Bucky gets his hand under Steve's hip and hauls his ass in the air - he's got some serious upper body strength for a guy missing half an arm - and Steve sticks his tongue in Peggy's cunt right as Bucky starts fucking him. A little part of him wonders why they haven't been doing this for weeks.

Peggy squeezes his shoulders with her thighs, and he draws his tongue out to shape circles around her clit instead, replacing his tongue with two fingers. She either likes it really slow, or really fast, but she'll let him know in a minute what she's in the mood for. Steve just tries really hard to concentrate on getting it right while Bucky pulls in and out of him agonizingly slowly. 

"This okay?" Bucky asks in a hoarse voice.

Steve moans a noise of assent, he hopes, but Bucky seems to get the message. Peggy threads the fingers of one hand into Steve's hair and with the other, she pinches at her nipples through her t-shirt. Moving his arm out from under his chest, Steve presses his thumb up under his tongue, pushing at the greedy wetness of her pussy. Peggy moans and pushes down against him.

"More, Steve," she says breathlessly, tugging hard on his hair. "Come on, give it to me, I want it at least as hard as Bucky's giving it."

Bucky moans behind him, the sound vibrating down through Steve's body. He pulls Peggy's clit between his lips and pushes two fingers past the soft velvet of her labia, fucking them up inside her and curling them over as he drags them down again. Bucky's pace starts to pick up; it's still slow and measured, but he's fucking Steve harder now, slowly building, in response to Peggy's challenge. Steve moves his hand in time with Bucky's thrusts, letting him set the pace.

"How should I do it?" he asks, glancing up at Peggy's flushed face, his eyes lingering on the slow heave of her tits. 

She groans and pinches her nipple again, eyes closing tight. "Slow," she mumbles. "Slow and hard."

Bucky seems to take this as a directive for him too, and lingers a little more over each thrust, wrapping his hand around Steve's hip to anchor him. Steve rubs his face into Peggy's pussy, getting her wetness, her smell, all over his nose and chin and mouth. She pushes back against him with a happy sigh, and tightens her fingers in his hair momentarily in encouragement. 

"Yeah," she moans, "that's right honey, fuck me like he fucks you, make me feel it-"

Steve moans loudly and pushes his tongue inside her, spreading his fingers to slip his tongue between them. She tastes just how he remembers, and it's comforting and arousing at the same time. His nose rubs over her clit and she wriggles against him with a noisy, breathless sound that makes Bucky's hips falter in their rhythmic grind. Steve whimpers at the unexpected pressure, and draws back so that he can lap his tongue over Peggy's clit again. As requested, he moves it slow and steady, licking up from bottom to top and then again, lapping at her firmly. 

"How's he doin?" Bucky asks, his voice gravelly, somewhere over Steve's shoulder. 

Peggy laughs softly and uses her hand to pull Steve in closer. "Like you said," she gasps, "he knows exactly what he's doing, not a trace of rust."

Steve finds himself moaning, whether it's at the praise or the way Bucky gives him one extra hard thrust at her words, or maybe a combination of both, it's impossible to tell. He angles his wrist and slides a third finger inside Peggy, using the extra leverage to fuck his fingers in harder. He finds that he's enjoying the way they talk about him, as if he can't speak for himself, as if it's not up to him what he gets to do. And he knows without asking that Bucky is getting off on it. 

Bucky leans forward and his hand creeps around Steve's hip to his crotch. "How you feelin, tiger?" he mutters, stroking his fingers gently over Steve's dick, which is half hard against his thigh. It's still sensitive, and the touch makes him jerk up in surprise, forcing him back onto Bucky's dick. He makes a little surprised noise of pleasure and Bucky laughs and groans at the same time. He touches Steve again, still soft and curious, and Steve shudders with the effort of keeping as still as he can.

"Bucky," Peggy says in a low, dangerous voice.

"Uh huh?" he gasps.

"Steve seems to be losing focus." She tugs at his hair, and Steve moans loudly. "Would you remind him to behave, please? I can't reach from here."

There's a long pause, while Bucky pulls out slowly, almost all the way. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he shoves back in and gives Steve's thigh a quick, harsh slap. 

"Fuck," Steve moans against Peggy's thigh. "How am I supposed to concentrate with you doing that?"

Peggy groans and shuffles down, lifting Steve's head so she can kiss him. It's filthy and messy, his face slick with her pussy, and she laughs against his mouth and bites at his top lip. "Make me come, Steve," she whispers, clutching his face between her hands. "I want to come on your pretty face."

Steve's voice comes out cracked and wanton, and all he can do is nod as he pushes at her hips to get her back in place so he can get his mouth on her pussy. Peggy sobs happily and reaches up behind her to grab onto the headboard, digging her heels into the mattress so she can push back against him. He can feel her pussy tighten around his fingers, release and tighten. She's making plenty of noise now; none of it really words, just helpless, desperate sounds building up and up, and Steve can _feel_ how much Bucky is getting off on it, how he's losing his rhythm and directing his thrusts down, harder, fingers flexing into the meat of Steve's thigh. 

Steve circles around Peggy's clit with his thumb: a slow, firm pressure, then he replaces it with his tongue and starts ramming his fingers home in time with Bucky fucking him. The pounding Bucky is giving him makes him buzz, every other thrust catching his prostate, and he's deliriously fucking full and turned on without any desperate need to come again. Peggy's thighs clutch tight around his shoulders, trapping him between her and Bucky. It makes him feel safe and contained, and he can't help a smile when he feels her legs shudder against him. Steve loves bringing people off so much he can't breathe with how good it feels, and even better if it's someone he loves as much as Peggy or Bucky. 

"Oh shit," Bucky moans, curling forwards over his back. He pushes his fingers into Steve's hair, ruffling it gently. "Steve, _Stevie_ , fuck-"

Peggy moans loudly and her body draws up tight against him, her thighs seizing as she pushes herself up off the bed, shuddering against him. Steve doesn't let up, working her clit with the flat of his his tongue while he fucks her on his hand. Bucky is vibrating against him, hips jerking, and Steve nearly loses his fucking mind when the two of them come together. Wet heat covers his face and wrist, and fills up his ass, and he's fucking _trapped_ between their slick limbs and the tremulous web of their voices surrounding him, crashing down around him. He doesn't stop sucking at Peggy's clit until she tells him to stop, and in the meantime Bucky plasters himself around Steve and hugs him tight, dick still hot and solid inside him. 

Eventually Peggy pushes him off, and he and Bucky collapse into a mess of sticky limbs. Bucky finds his face and clutches him as they kiss, heated and slow, Bucky moaning as he sucks the taste of Peggy from Steve's lips and chin. 

"Holy. Fuck."

Peggy's voice breaks the strange near-silence of slow breathing, and Steve and Bucky both giggle into each other's mouths. Bucky kisses him once more, and nudges him to get moving. Steve crawls up beside Peggy, sliding gratefully into the space she makes for him under her right arm. She kisses him softly, then glances over his shoulder as Bucky curls in behind him, his hand folding protectively over Steve's chest. 

"Thanks, Bucky," she says, reaching past Steve's cheek to stroke Bucky's hair. He smiles into Steve's neck and rubs into her touch like a cat. He leans up on his elbow so he can lean over Steve and kiss her, and Peggy returns it with a dazed smile. 

"Thank _you_ ," he says in a sleepy voice. 

"Aren't we all polite," she says, looking back at Steve with laughter in her eyes. He sighs happily and snuggles back against Bucky's warm, solid body, wrapping his arm back around Peggy's waist. "You two had better let me sleep this time," she murmurs in a half-hearted warning. "If you want to keep shagging, take it next door."

Bucky laughs softly, heating the back of Steve's neck and making him shiver. He's still half hard, sleepy and content, but he could be convinced. "I need a little rest first."

Steve makes an assenting noise in his throat and slides his hand up to cup one of Peggy's breasts, feeling the comforting weight fill his palm. Peggy strokes his cheek with the back of her finger, and Bucky slides his leg between Steve's thighs. He feels soft and warm and wanted. He vaguely needs to pee, but he can ignore it for another twenty minutes or so in favor of cuddling. 

"You know," he murmurs sleepily. "You guys are the best." He yawns, smothering it against Peggy's shoulder. "The fucking best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THERE WE HAVE IT.
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies <3 I don't exactly intend a sequel to this but I'll probably write bits and pieces in this universe when I get time :)

**Author's Note:**

> ****There are minor mentions of past child abuse and emotional abuse that Bucky suffered earlier, none of which takes place within the story.**
> 
>  
> 
> Man, I just dissolved over a month of my life into this, so please do leave kudos, comments or [reblog](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/95865199830/young-turks-7229-words-by-notallbees-ao3) if you enjoyed! Also come say hey on [tumblr](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [to the little guys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241105) by [crooked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked)




End file.
